


Keep Calm and Buckle Up

by MessyInsomniacBookGirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexuality, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mentions of 1930's/1940's Homophobia, Monogamous Triad, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, Romance, Smut, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Violence, mention of infertility, mention of pregnancy loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22937461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyInsomniacBookGirl/pseuds/MessyInsomniacBookGirl
Summary: When Evie Woods runs into a whole lot of trouble during the events surrounding the Winter Soldier in Washington D.C., the unusual "gifts" she's kept hidden all her life come to light, and the fallout forces her into the adventure of a lifetime. Or, an adventure that lasts a lifetime. It depends on how you look at it, and however long that life may be. Who even knows at this point? She sure as hell doesn't.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 208
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These damn plot bunnies just keep multiplying... like bunnies! O.o
> 
> So, here's another new story for your perusal.
> 
> Please heed the Trigger Warnings in the tags before starting out. They are there for a reason. As I have plotted this story out -mostly-, but am still fuzzy on a couple of details (which I'm sure will come to me eventually, while writing), Trigger Warnings will be added to the tags while the story progresses, so please check them out before you read any new chapters I've posted. Thank you.
> 
> Happy Reading!  
XO

**Chapter 1**

Washington D.C., Saturday, 29 March 2014

Once again, like so many times before, Evie did not pay any attention to where her feet took her. Her face was hidden in a Lonely Planet city plan, while she simultaneously tried to find a signal for her phone, so Google Maps could tell her where she’d wandered off to when she’d spotted a small book shop during the guided city walk she was supposed to be attending. 

After the book shop, she’d spotted a tech-gadget shop further down the road, and then a fascinating statue a few blocks over, and then she’d found a hot dog street vendor just around a corner -or a couple of corners- by following her nose, and then she’d spotted a Chinese shop filled with the most colourful parasols imaginable, which she of course just _had_ to take a picture of, and then... she’d realised the tour group was nowhere in sight, and found her pasty British arse to be incredibly lost in what looked like a less than savoury part of town than she had become used to.

With her talent for finding lost things, and people, both online, and in real life, one would think that her sense of direction would be more developed, or even close to perfection. But, alas... It sucked. She’d lost her way more times in the past few days than there were cars in D.C. 

Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

_Curse my chaos brain!_

One would think that in a city as modern as Washington D.C. there would be adequate phone coverage. But no, zero reception areas apparently did still exist in this concrete jungle. 

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, she held her phone up in the air. As if that would help.

_Nope. Nothing. _Evie let out a frustrated groan.

_Well, what were you thinking? Holding that phone a foot higher will not give you a magical four bars of reception, you short nitwit._

Grumbling under her breath at her inner voice, she frowned at the phone. Just as she was about to ask a passer by if they could point her in the right direction, there came a screeching noise from the fly-over bridge above her, followed by the sound of several cars coming to an abrupt stop.

_Oh shite... was that a car accident?_

There was a short silence, but then all hell broke loose. The sound of loud party poppers going off was preceded by an explosion.

_Wait... Is that... _**_gun_**_ fire?!_ The shocked thought shot through Evie’s head, just as the explosion propelled a big, human shape holding some kind of weird, large frisbee, over the concrete rail of the bridge and through the front window of a passing bus. The bus swerved, got hit by a truck, and tipped over, sliding on its side until it came to a stop in the middle of the street.

_Oh... SHITE!_

With wide eyes, Evie stood frozen as the gun fire went on above, and another explosion happened on top of the bridge; which threw a car, and a red haired woman over the side of it. The woman fired some kind of rope thingy at the underside of the bridge, and swung safely down as the burning car crashed to the asphalt. She hit the ground running, only to come to a full stop when her eyes caught sight of the shadow of a masked man, who was stood on top of the bridge, huge gun -_is that an assault rifle?!-_ in hand, and left arm glinting silver in the sunlight.

Just when the man aimed his rifle at the crashed bus, the woman stepped out from under the bridge and shot at him, distracting him from his target.

She must have hit something, because a slight “tink” could be heard, and the man quickly ducked away behind the concrete railing of the bridge.

_Holy shit! Holy shit! HOLY SHIT!_

Blinking, Evie tried to get her fearful panting under control, and shook herself from her shock when she noticed how people were desperately trying to free themselves from the back of the crashed bus. The emergency door was stuck from the outside.

Noticing how the fight was about to relocate itself from atop the bridge to the level below, Evie knew she had to do something to help before the other people found themselves in the line of fire. There would be so many casualties if those people were left stuck in that bus.

Keeping low and thanking any deity out there for her presence of mind to wear running shoes that morning, she quickly made her way over to the vehicle, cringing all the while when the man on the bridge opened fire on the redhead below with his semi automatic; spraying bullets everywhere. The deadly, metal rain pounding itself into the asphalt with dull thuds not even fifteen yards from where Evie had ducked behind the bus.

_Oh god ohgod ohgodohgodohgod_

Evie gripped the mangled steel bar which held the emergency door closed and pulled with all her might; even throwing her hundred-pounds-soaking-wet weight into the mix.

‘Come onnn...’ She grunted in frustration when it dawned on her. There was no way the door would open, it was well and truly stuck. ‘You have to go out the front!’ Raising her voice to be heard, she gestured for the people to make their way to the front. ‘Go to the front!’ She slapped the glass to emphasise her words.

Thankfully, it didn’t take them very long to understand what she said, and, as one, the group of five clambered to the front of the bus; making their way out of the broken front window.

From the corner of her eyes, Evie noticed a flash of red, and when she turned her head she saw how the red haired woman took refuge behind the truck which had hit the bus earlier, and shot at the man on the bridge who had appeared from behind the concrete rail again. 

Immediately, a spray of bullets moved towards the woman. And past Evie herself.

_Shiiiiiiit!!!_ Scrambling back on her hands and feet, like a crab, she tried to find cover, but before she could hide behind the bus, the firing stopped for a moment.

Then the woman drew the next spray of bullets away when she started running down the road, ducking behind parked cars to keep out of the direct line of fire.

Evie heaved a sigh of relief; checking herself for any wounds.

_Still in one piece. Thank fuck._

She startled, and a loud, involuntary squeak escaped her when the large, black clad man with the silver arm landed on top of a car not ten yards away from her. Without giving Evie any attention, the man, who moved like a terminator murder bot after jumping down at least twenty feet, followed the red haired woman with a determined strut as he raised his rifle.

The man was followed down by at least four other men, all dressed in tactical gear, who rappelled from the bridge, huge guns at the ready. The moment their boots hit the asphalt, they opened fire on the bus; completely riddling it with bullets from front to back.

Choking on a scream, Evie could only watch as the wall of bullets came closer and closer, frozen as she was from terror.

Then the back window of the bus exploded outwards, and a tall, broad shouldered man rolled over the asphalt and picked up the frisbee-like shield which lay a few feet away from her on the ground.

He must have seen her cowering on the asphalt during his escape from the bus, because he landed precisely in front of her; shielding her, and himself, from the sea of bullets. 

A small part of her brain marvelled at the structural integrity of the large shield. Any other metal in their vicinity had been reduced to Swiss cheese, but the shield held formidably, bullets plinking off it left and right. The rest of her brain fired panic and terror throughout her body, keeping her frozen and hyperventilating behind the man.

_Ohgod ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod I’m gonna diiiieeee!_ She held her hands over her ears to shut out the sound of the blazing guns.

‘Kid!’ Evie blinked at the man as his raised voice broke through her terror, realising that he’d been talking to her while she’d been freaking out. All the while, the spray of bullets coming their way not even stopping for a second.

‘I’m not a _kid_. I’m almost thirty!’ In spite of their dire situation, she managed to sound slightly offended as she answered him, and simultaneously gasped for breath. She really hoped she’d see thirty with how smashing her day was going so far.

‘Sorry, ma’am. I’m Steve. What’s your name?’

**_Are we really exchanging names while people are shooting at us?!_** Screamed her panicked inner voice at her.

‘Evie... Eve... Evelyn.’ The gulps of breath she was pulling in became less harried as he made her focus on introducing herself.

‘Evie... Can I call you Evie?’

Evie nodded.

‘You’re doing great.’ He said; his eyes kind. ‘Were you in the bus?’

She shook her head, and looked at him with wide eyes.

‘No, I tried to help them. They were stuck. Couldn’t just leave them to be cannon fodder.’

Steve blinked, and took in her slender, diminutive form, while she tried to make herself as small as possible behind him and the shield. One of the corners of his mouth lifted up in a half smile as he looked into her fearful, but defiant eyes.

‘Of course you couldn’t.’ He said, voice warm and reassuring. ‘How about we try to move towards that large concrete pillar over there?’ He nodded at something to the side and just behind her. ‘It should be sturdy enough to protect us from all these bullets.’

Looking back to where he pointed, she squeaked when a bullet whizzed past her a bit too close for comfort.

‘Great... great idea!’ 

‘Alright... here we go. You go first. I’ll cover you. Stay low.’

Nodding, Evie scrambled to her feet, staying crouched with Steve, who held up the shield between them and certain death.

‘Okay. Go!’ He said, voice urgent.

She didn’t need to be told twice. As fast as she could in her hunched over position, she moved towards the pillar; letting out a relieved breath when the both of them reached the relative safety of the concrete in one piece. She pushed her back against the cool pillar and slid down until her bum hit the ground.

Steve crouched next to her, talking as quietly as possible with the bullets still whizzing past and thudding into the other side of the pillar.

‘Stay here until it’s safe to come out.’

‘When’s that?’ Evie looked down at her shaking hands and felt how her chin trembled from stress; her teeth almost chattering.

‘Usually? When the shooting stops.’

She glared at him. Unamused.

‘Smart-arse.’ 

He threw her a cocky grin, as if completely unconcerned about the situation they’d found themselves in.

‘Always.’ 

Then he tipped his imaginary hat at her and ran out into the fray, shield up and at the ready; drawing the spray of bullets away from her.

Breathing hard, Evie pushed back against the concrete pillar, unable to believe she’d just made it out of a lethal situation with her head and all her limbs still attached. Those bullets had been armour piercing rounds, at the least, with how easily they’d decimated everything around her and Steve.

Mentally putting together the name with the tall, strong man and the shield with the star and the colours of the American flag, she could only conclude that she’d just been saved by none other than Captain America. Who was in the middle of waging a war against thugs in tac gear, apparently. A war which she had clumsily stumbled into.

‘_Holy_ shit.’ She breathed as she carded her hands through her short, strawberry blonde curls, and clenched her eyes shut. ‘Holy _fuck_.’ Thumping her head back against the pillar, she attempted to stave off the burgeoning panic attack.

Earlier on in the week, she’d wondered if she’d catch a glimpse of the good Captain out and about in the city. 

When she’d arrived in D.C. three days before, the situation she found herself in now was not how she’d imagined it would go.

Her boyfriend of six months, Geraint -Gerry-, who worked as a SHIELD liaison for the World Security Council, had invited her to come with to the US when it became clear that his superiors wanted him there for some kind of important happening. When she had hesitated, Washington D.C. not really high on her list of places to visit, he’d proceeded to tell her that he had it on good authority that Captain America had made D.C. his home. He’d warned her not to disclose it to anyone, because it was supposed to be all hush-hush. Evie, ever the history enthusiast, had jumped at the chance of catching a glimpse of the famous, but elusive Captain America, who, after being MIA and presumed dead during World War Two, had suddenly popped up in New York when an alien race had attempted to invade Earth.

Her talent for finding stuff -and people- had put her in quite the undesirable situation this time, though. She hadn’t thought, when she’d set out from the hotel early in the morning, that this was how her day would go. She’d been annoyed when her boyfriend had foregone spending a couple of hours with her for the third day in a row. Yes, she understood he’d come to D.C. to work, but he’d also promised her he would take a couple of mornings or afternoons off to show her around the city if she came with. Something which hadn’t happened yet.

In three more days, they’d be on their way home to the UK again, and it wasn’t looking up on the dating front. Gerry had been scheduled to work each and every one of those days. The man, who was thirteen years her senior, had reacted cold and stand-offish when she’d complained, and had left for work without saying another word; leaving her to stew by herself in the hotel room.

That’s when she’d decided to just have her holiday without him, and throw herself into discovering the city without her boyfriend present. She’d leisurely visited the big monuments in the days before, but early that morning she’d decided to undertake a day-long city tour; partly by bus, and partly on foot.

Which had led her here. Into a situation she was ill-equipped to handle.

_Fuck my luck. _

_But, hey, at least you found Captain America._

_Oh, shut up!_

She tried to ignore the gunshots, and the sounds of fists hitting flesh, and bullets hitting Steve’s shield, and then flesh, by once again holding her hands over her ears, but it didn’t do any good. Everything was too loud.

There was yelling, and more gun shots, and then it became quiet.

Evie waited for a couple more minutes before she gingerly rose to her feet, and quickly threw a glance at the street behind the pillar.

Apart from a couple of panicked, running civilians, and a lot of dead or near-dead bodies clad in tac gear, there was no-one left who would be able, or even inclined, to shoot at her.

From down another street she heard a couple more gun shots, but it sounded like the urban warzone was moving away from her.

_Good. Now, let’s get out of here._

After taking one step away from where she could still hear the fighting going on, she halted.

_But..._

_No. Let’s go._

Another step. And a stop.

_But what if Steve..._

_No. Go. Now._

_He saved my life. I have to know if he’s okay._

Ignoring the voice of reason inside her head, which shouted at her to get her arse to safety, she sprinted to the corner of the street and put her back against the wall of the corner building. Then she took a quick look around the building, scoping out a fighting Steve. 

A few hundred yards down the street, he was battling hand to knife with the masked man in black. Both men were of a similar build, with Steve having maybe two inches on the other man.

They were almost evenly matched in strength, speed, agility, and stamina. The blond Captain stronger and faster, but the masked man more agile and visibly trained to take out targets _fast_, with a cold, menacing calculation. He just did _not_ stop, no matter how severe the hits were which he received. Once again, the terminator moniker came to mind when she observed how the man in black held his own against Steve. _Scary_.

The strikes against both their bodies sounded _hard_, even from where Evie was standing, and were undoubtedly meant to eliminate the other party. If either of them had been any kind of “normal”, the normal one would have definitely expired. But as they _both_ seemed to be of the enhanced kind, the hits and kicks and blocks just kept coming. There was no end to it.

Carefully and slowly, keeping out of sight of anyone who could be dangerous, and hiding behind the parked cars that stood along the edge of the pavement as much as she could, Evie crept closer to the brawling men; thinking that maybe she’d be able to help. How, she wasn’t sure, because she was a klutz, and not particularly strong, but she would repay Steve’s kindness if she could.

Now only fifteen feet away from her, Steve had pulled his shield out of the hole it had made when it had been embedded in the back of a van. Within seconds the two men were at it again, the masked man stabbing and slicing at Steve with a thin dagger, and Steve blocking and dealing out hits and punches with the shield.

Biting her lip, Evie held her breath when Steve somehow got the upper hand, and hauled the masked man up by the head and threw him over his shoulder, the man landing a couple of yards away. Right next to the car Evie was hiding behind.

The metal armed man rolled with the movement when he hit the ground, and when he stood, the mask had fallen away from his face.

Steve froze, his face incredulous, and Evie looked back and forth between the two men. Steve had lowered his shield, leaving himself completely open to any attacks. The other man frowned in confusion at Steve’s stupid move.

_Huh? What’s happening? What the hell is he doing?!_

‘Bucky?!’ Steve asked, voice almost breathless, and clearly having trouble believing his own eyes.

_What?! Bucky?! _

_As in James ‘Bucky’ Barnes?! The one who’s been MIA, presumed dead, since the forties?_

_What the hell? Is everyone coming back from the dead these days? _

_Well, it seems to be all the rage, lately..._

‘Who the hell is Bucky?’ Growled the formerly masked man; dark confusion clearly visible in his pinched expression before his face changed to something cold and scary. 

He raised his gun, but before he was able to aim and shoot at Steve, a dark-skinned man with metal wings -_Sure, let’s just add a few more wannabe Avengers to the mix, shall we?_\- swooped down from the sky and kicked “Bucky” in the head, throwing him to the ground in the process.

“Bucky”, however, rolled to his feet next to a brown pick-up truck; after a slight hesitation once again aiming his gun at Steve; who was still frozen in his shock.

This time there was no swooping metal bird man to save Steve from an inevitable death, though, and Evie saw her chance. She picked up a large piece of broken asphalt which lay next to her sneaker, and stood; yelling a ‘Hey! Wanker!’ at “Bucky”, and chucking the rock at him as hard as she could at the same time. 

The man’s menacing gaze flew her way when the rock hit his shoulder, slightly throwing off his aim. Dark eyebrows pulled together in a scowl, and he changed his target; his gun swinging around and pointing into her direction within a fraction of a second. 

Her hands shot up into the air almost automatically.

‘_Sorry_.’ She squeaked hoarsely, swallowing laboriously as she looked down the barrel of the gun.

She’d never seen a person take aim as fast as he had. When he didn’t immediately pull the trigger, she let her eyes shift from the gun to his face. Time stood still when their eyes locked; scared shitless hazel and menacing dark blue clashed for just a moment as she stood frozen like a deer in headlights. Their gazes held for a second, and then the man dismissed her as non-threatening; re-aiming his gun at gobsmacked Steve who couldn’t seem to shake his shock.

“Bucky” didn’t get the chance to pull the trigger, though, because from somewhere to Evie’s right, a grenade got launched in his direction and exploded right in front of him. And her.

Evie tried to duck behind the car that stood between her and “Bucky” as fast as she could, but not before she felt how the heat of the explosion burned the hair and skin off the left side of her face and some of the clothes from her upper body. Somehow, any flying debris missed her by a miraculous hairsbreadth.

A loud cry escaped her as she fell down to the pavement; unable to keep to her feet when she felt the incredibly painful burn that quickly spread along the left side of her body. When she looked at her arm, she observed, as if from a distance -_huh, weird._-, that the sleeve of her denim jacket had burned clean off, leaving singed, raw meat and severely blistered skin behind. 

_Oh, that explosion hit me quite a bit more seriously than I thought it did..._

The absent-minded thought shot through her head just before Steve landed next to her on his knees.

‘Evie! Evie, can you hear me?’ His voice sounded strangely warbled. He held out his hands but seemed afraid to touch her.

‘’Mfine. Isjussafleshwound.’ She slurred, trying to make a joke of it. The world tilted as she tipped to the side, unable to fight off a dizzy spell. The dark skinned man who used to have metal wings -_Huh? Where did they go?-_ caught her before she could hit the ground with her crispy side. Which she was thankful for, because picking grit and dirt out of half healed scrapes was always a bitch. Usually, her body pushed those things out eventually, but that also hurt like a sonovabitch, so it was better to just keep the skin clean when she’d scraped herself up for the umpteenth time; clumsy as she was.

_This time it isn’t really _ ** _just_ ** _ a scrape, is it?_

Ignoring her panicked inner voice, she tried to focus on what went on around her.

When a siren suddenly seemed to come from Steve’s mouth while he spoke in those warbled tones, Evie blinked in surprise.

_What the hell?!_

She blinked again, and then they were somehow surrounded by a dozen or so dangerous looking thugs in tac gear. Automatic rifles pointed straight at their small group.

_Where did _ ** _those_ ** _ wankers come from?! Didn’t Steve take them all out?_

Someone put the barrel of a rifle against Steve’s head while another man cuffed his hands behind his back.

‘Fuckyouwankahs!’ Evie grunted as she threw the thug the most fearsome scowl she could master at that moment, and flipped him the bird with her right hand. Her left not really cooperating at that moment, or she would have flipped him a double.

In spite of the dire situation they found themselves in, a rumble of suppressed laughter traveled through her body, coming from the man with the -vanished- wings who supported her. He chuckled at her spirited reaction.

‘Easy there, English.’ 

The man cuffing Steve warned away the man with the rifle against Steve’s head after he’d spotted a news helicopter.

‘Put the gun down... Not here. _Not here!_’ 

Rifle Man frowned in displeasure, but stepped away without any protest.

Evie must have blacked out after that, because the next thing she consciously experienced was a gasping for air while her eyes shot open. She found herself slumped against Steve in the back of an armoured truck. 

She flailed her arms in a bid to stay on the narrow bench, but alas, as everyone in the truck, except for two guards and herself, was in handcuffs, which were attached to the floor by sturdy looking chains, no-one could prevent her from face-planting onto the floor when the truck bounced over a bump in the road.

‘Ow.’ She grunted as she pushed herself up, noticing that the use of her left arm had returned while she was out. The tender, still healing, pink skin still pulled uncomfortably when she moved, but at least she didn’t resemble someone who’d been through a meat grinder anymore. Too bad it would take a while for her eyebrow and hair to grow back, though. Gingerly she touched the fuzzy soft hair on the left side of her head.

‘Well,’ said Birdman with surprise colouring his voice, ‘that was unexpected.’

When she looked up, Evie saw how both Steve and Birdman gazed at her in surprise and amazement, while the red haired woman just smirked. One of the guards had raised his weapon, pointing it at Evie threateningly.

‘Uh.’ Said Evie eloquently, blinking up at the people towering over her as she sat back on her arse.

_Shit. Secret’s out._

Thankfully, everyone got distracted by the red-haired woman’s soft grunt as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of the truck. Evie only now noticed how her shoulder was bleeding steadily.

‘We need to get a doctor here.’ Pleaded Birdman with the guard who hadn’t pointed his rifle at Evie. ‘We don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out, here in the truck.’

As an answer, the unarmed guard whipped out a cattle prod -or that’s what it looked like to Evie- which crackled to life with an electric blue glow, and Birdman recoiled a bit. 

Then the guard shoved it against his colleague’s chest, zapping him with what looked like an incredible amount of electricity, rendering him K.O. almost immediately, and giving him a kick to the head to make sure he stayed that way. The armed guard slumped to the floor, landing in front of Evie, who crawled backwards until she hit the back door of the truck.

The guard who had electrocuted and then sucker-kicked his colleague, loosened the strap of his helmet and took it off with a grunt, revealing that the he was, in fact, a she.

‘Ow, that thing was squeezing my brain.’ The brunette guard complained as she frowned at the helmet before looking at both Birdman and Evie. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Who are these guys?’ She asked Steve. ‘You picking up strays now?’

Steve just shrugged and held out his handcuffs for her to unlock.

After that, things sped up as the woman freed the three handcuffed people and helped up Evie, pushing her towards the front of the truck as she took out something that looked like a mini blow torch from her pocket. 

The thing packed a punch, though; cutting through the floor of the armoured truck like it was made of butter instead of reinforced steel.

Just when the truck slowed, the cut out floor dropped to the road with a clang. Everyone froze, waiting, expecting to be discovered, but the truck turned a corner, and accelerated again.

Evie expelled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, only to suck it in again when she looked through the hole in the floor and saw the road shooting by at a disconcerting speed.

‘Oh god.’ She lamented, looking up at Guard Woman. ‘Don’t tell me-’

Guard Woman shook her head at Evie, interrupting her, and pulled out her phone from her tac gear coat to look at a digital map.

‘There are road works up ahead, which will slow down the truck for a couple of seconds. That’s when we jump ship. It’ll have to be fast. There’s one enemy truck behind us, so we’ll have to crawl all the way from front to back.’

The truck slowed down again, coming to a full stop this time. From the outside, the sounds of a jackhammer repeatedly pounding into asphalt reached Evie’s ears.

Guard Woman put away her phone and lowered herself down through the hole in the floor.

‘Quick and quiet.’ She whispered. ‘Follow my lead.’

Before Evie knew it, Steve had helped her down into the hole, and she belly crawled from under one truck to the next, thanking the powers that be that her burn wounds had healed enough for her to not be hindered by them too much. She followed Guard Woman’s combat boots until she cleared the last truck, and then followed the woman’s example by rolling to the side, coming to a stop behind a dark grey, non-descript van, which had been parked next to the road works.

Within seconds, Steve, Birdman, the red-haired woman, and Evie herself were sat inside the dim cargo hold of the van, with Guard Woman taking her place behind the steering wheel, speeding them away from the trucks of doom as fast as she could without drawing too much attention.

Birdman kneeled next to the red-haired woman while he kept pressure on the gunshot wound in her shoulder; attempting to stop the bleeding.

‘So,’ he said, smiling tightly at Evie, ‘I’m Sam.’ He nodded at the red-haired woman. ‘This is Natasha... And you’re... Evie?’

Evie nervously licked her lips before she nodded.

‘Evie Woods... Evelyn Woods.’

Sam snickered when he gazed at both Steve and herself.

‘Steve and Eve. Both gifted with super healing. What are the odds?’ Then he turned to Evie. ‘You enhanced, too, then?’

Evie shook her head, swallowing away her panic before she answered. It wasn’t like they didn’t already know about her rapid healing factor, having witnessed it first hand. There was no way she’d be able to keep herself off the radar after this. These people were affiliated with SHIELD. She’d be out in the open from now on. Dammit. 

There was nothing else for her to do but to trust them not to turn her into a lab-rat. She had flown under the radar for so long, kept up a cloak of normalcy; but no more, it seemed.

‘No, I was born this way, as far as I know. And I don’t have any other enhanced senses. I’m not abnormally strong or fast, or have super hearing, or super sight. I’m just average me. I heal faster than most people, but that’s it.’ She lied.

‘Your parents, do they have the same mutation as you?’ Piped up the strained voice of Natasha.

Evie’s hazel gaze flew to the woman’s green one before she shook her head in the negative.

‘I don’t know. I never knew my parents. I was found at the edge of the woods next to a small town when I was only a couple of days old. That’s where I got my surname. No-one really knows where I came from.’ She shrugged. ‘Grew up in foster homes and orphanages all over Britain until I was old enough to make it on my own.’

‘You were able to keep your healing factor under wraps during those years?’ Natasha inquired further, her expression carefully neutral. Too neutral. It made Evie even more nervous than she already was.

‘I’ve had a few minor slip-ups, because I’m a klutz, have been all my life, but over all, yes, I somehow managed to keep it a secret until now.’ She thought back at all the luck she’d had over the years, keeping herself off the radar of any government, or other “organisations”, and shivered when she remembered the ones who hadn’t been as lucky. ‘When I was still in foster care, I saw what happened to kids who were less lucky than I am with how obvious their _gifts_ were. They were taken away in the night, and we never saw them or heard from them ever again... I tried to find the ones who’d been my friends years later, when I turned eighteen, but I never found a trace. It was almost as if they never even existed in the first place.’ Which was saying something, coming from her, but the people surrounding her didn’t have to know about her freak “talent” to track down or find anything and anyone she wished. Which sometimes happened even when she wasn’t actively seeking someone or something out.

Take Captain America for example. She’d only _thought_ about how awesome it would be to catch a glimpse of him, and her “gift” had unwittingly led her right into his path. That faux pas had landed her in a shit-storm of epic proportions, with painful and far-reaching consequences; she’d found herself in mortal danger, had been hurt worse than she’d ever been before, and in the process she’d been found out. Not something she was very happy about at that moment.

_What do I always say about being careful what you wish for... Or being careful, full stop._ Her inner voice singsonged tauntingly.

_Oh, shut up._

‘So, would it be too much to ask for you to drop me off at my hotel?’ It was worth a try. Right?

Steve shook his head.

‘Sorry, but no. They have seen your face. And no doubt they’ll know who you are before the day is done. If they think you can lead them to us, they won’t hesitate to torture you for information. You’ll have to wait until it’s safe.’

Evie frowned.

‘What? But I’m supposed to be on a plane back to the UK in three days. How long will it take before things are safe? Oh god, my boyfriend will be so worried!’ She hadn’t thought about Gerry at all since everything went to shit. 

Okay, maybe he’d flitted through her mind once or twice, but only to curse the day he’d decided that his job was more important than she. Would he even be worried when he found her gone? He hadn’t seemed very concerned about her happiness when he’d left for work. On the contrary. He’d been so harsh and cold that she hadn’t even recognised him. 

‘And who is _they_, anyway?’ She added for good measure, curious as to who wanted their heads on pikes.

Steve exchanged a dark look with Natasha before he answered in a solemn tone.

‘Hydra.’ 

Evie sat up from where she leaned back against the wall of the van.

‘_What?!_ But those bastards were completely destroyed after World War Two! The SSR took care of that.’ Her gaze shot from Steve to Natasha and back again. When she saw their alarmed expressions, she felt she had to elaborate. ‘History is sort of my hobby.’ She shrugged and pulled a “so sue me” face. ‘And my boyfriend is a SHIELD liaison for the World Security Council. It’s why we’re here, in D.C.... Well, it’s why _he’s_ here, anyway. Something big is about to happen, apparently. I just tagged along, because I thought he’d free up some time to see the sights with me. Guess I was wrong. We got into a fight about it this morning... I’m not even sure I like him that much anymore... He acted like a real wanker.’ Frowning, she looked down at the floor. ‘It was like I didn’t even know him; like he flipped a switch and suddenly he was someone else. It’s so strange.’

When her gaze traveled up again, she caught the tail-end of Steve and Natasha sharing another look. Natasha nodded at the Captain, and Steve’s expression hardened. Then he turned to look at Evie.

‘I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to stay at a secure location until this is over.’ His tone left no room for discussion. 

She tried anyway.

‘But-’ started Evie before she was interrupted by Natasha.

‘If you were so concerned about your mutation being discovered, why did you start a relationship with someone who works for SHIELD?’

Evie frowned and pulled a face.

‘I didn’t do it on _purpose_! It just happened. I didn’t even _know_ he was with SHIELD at first, or I would’ve never accepted his invitation to go on a date. I only discovered it by accident two months ago. And by then we were already in love, and I couldn’t just walk away from that... At least, _I_ thought I was in love... Until he turned into mr Hyde all of a sudden this morning. Scared the shite out of me.’ Her voice trailed off as she seriously reconsidered her life choices.

‘Have you considered that he may have been aware of you and your gift before he began a relationship with you? That maybe there was an ulterior motive to it?’

‘Huh?’ Looking sharply at Natasha’s cunning expression, Evie raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘No. He doesn’t know about it.’ _Does he?_ The woman had an incredible talent. She succeeded in making Evie question anything and everything about her relationship with Gerry within seconds. 

‘Have you ever heard of Alexander Pierce?’

‘Uh... Yes? Geraint works with the man on a regular basis when he visits Europe.’ _Where is this going?_ ‘He’s very proud of it.’

‘We discovered that Alexander Pierce is a key figure within Hydra, and that Hydra has been an invisible, but intricate part of SHIELD since World War Two.’ Steve told Evie after Natasha threw him a meaningful look. ‘And if your boyfriend works closely with Pierce...’ His voice trailed off, leaving the loaded implication unsaid.

A cold dread spread through her when Evie observed how the three people in the back of the van looked at her with expressions which varied from suspicion to pity.

‘What? No! That’s preposterous. Geraint would _never-_’

Once again Natasha interrupted her.

‘Has he ever asked you to do any health check-ups? Maybe under the guise of taking out a health insurance through his company benefits?’

‘No. We don’t live together and we’re not engaged or anything, and he _never_...’ Evie fell silent when an unsettling thought occurred to her. ‘Oh, no...’

‘Yes?’ Natasha inquired, an almost smug expression on her face. Or, at least, as smug as a person could look when suffering from a gunshot wound to the shoulder.

Evie hesitated as her insides clenched in panic.

‘Um... Seven weeks ago SHIELD asked me to come in for a couple of tests when Gerry had contracted some kind of weird virus after visiting South Africa. He had to go into quarantine. They said it was just to rule out that he infected me when he got home... I have never been sick; not even one day in my life, so I knew it was near impossible for him to have infected me, but I couldn’t refuse, you know. That would have looked suspicious.’ Raking her hands through her curls, she groaned. ‘Shite... how could I have been so gullible?! I went in like a lamb to slaughter.’ She looked up at Natasha and Steve, eyes wide with shock. ‘SHIELD has my blood work.’ Horror leaked into her voice when she rephrased. ‘_Hydra_ has my blood work. My DNA... Oh... Oh, fuck.’ She let out a frustrated hiss. ‘So stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ 

Only when Steve crouched in front of her, laying a large, warm hand on her shoulder, and she sucked in a breath when she startled, she realised that she’d been well on her way into some kind of panic attack. 

‘Hey,’ he said quietly; voice warm and reassuring as he tried to catch her gaze. ‘It’s gonna be okay. We’ll just have to keep you out of trouble until this whole mess is sorted out. After that, you can go your own way. I’ll personally make sure that neither SHIELD nor Hydra will know you exist by the time we’re done with them. Alright?’

Expelling a shuddering breath and nodding, she avoided looking him in the eye.

‘I’m sorry.’ She said in a small voice, a shiver traveling down her spine. With the adrenaline in her system wearing off, and missing the sleeves of both her denim jacket and the underlying t-shirt, along with several large burn holes that were littered along the cloth on her left side, she became aware of the cold steel against her back and the cool air in the back of the van. 

Although the past few days had been mild, with Spring well on its way, the frigid edge of winter hadn’t completely left the air yet; and when the sun was hidden behind the clouds, or when evening set in, it could still be terribly cold. This, combined with the dreadful events that had unfolded during the day, caused her teeth to start chattering.

‘What do _you_ have to be sorry for?’ Steve frowned at her in confusion.

Evie shuddered; unable to suppress the full body shivers anymore.

‘For bein’ so much trouble, and such a wuss. Msorry for not helpingmore.’ Why were her words so slurred?

‘Evie, you saved my life when you threw that rock. That was very brave. Bucky would have shot m-’

‘Steve! She’s going into shock.’ Sam suddenly warned.

Being very much aware of her own loudly chattering teeth and irregular breathing pattern as her eyes had more and more trouble focusing, Evie had to agree. In spite of her rapid healing factor, it looked like her body wasn’t able to cope as well with the mental consequences of the horrific day she’d had as it had the physical consequences.

Before she could process everything, a pair of strong arms had picked her up bridal style, and she was deposited into Steve’s lap as he sat down in her spot on the floor and leaned back against the side of the van, cradling her against him.

At first she startled, and tried to get away from the unexpected, impromptu hug.

‘What’re ye doing?’ She squeaked, flailing slightly from... well... shock. Being gently man-handled by one of the greatest heroes of the past century wasn’t something that happened to her... ever.

Steve leaned forward a bit and shed his jacket; only to wrap it around her before rubbing her arms.

‘We have to get you warmed up, and calm your body. Shock is no trivial matter.’ He said matter of factly. ‘And I am the person with the highest body temperature here. I’m the one who can get you warmed up fastest.’ Gingerly he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his torso.

‘Oh.’ Evie said through chattering teeth; allowing herself to briefly lean into his embrace. 

It did nothing to “calm” her body, being pressed up against someone so gorgeous, but she had to admit that he felt comfortably warm against her bare arm and cold cheek. After steeling herself, she still protested, though. ‘I’m too heavy.’ And once more tried to wiggle free, cheeks flaming.

‘Sweetheart, you’re tiny. Four feet tall and fifty pounds at most. Now sit still, and let me get you warmed up a bit.’

An amused snort came from Sam at that last statement, but both Steve and Evie ignored it.

‘I’m five foot two and a hundred-and-six pounds, thank-you-very-much.’ Evie grumbled, feeling a bit peeved by Steve’s dismissal, but relented none the less, and tried to relax. Which was easier than she’d anticipated.

Steve was like a furnace, and within minutes of sitting in silence, Evie’s eyes began to droop. A couple of seconds later she was asleep, snuggling a bit deeper into Steve’s embrace as her breathing evened out.

-

Steve looked up from where he’d been gazing down at the tiny, spirited, strawberry blonde woman, who somehow just seemed to fit in his arms as if she belonged, when Sam demonstratively cleared his throat. Steve raised his eyebrows at his newest friend and brother in arms.

‘What?’ He kept his voice low and quiet to not disturb Evie.

Sam sent him a meaningful look.

‘Really?... _Let me get you warmed up a bit._’ He said, imitating the way Steve had talked to Evie.

Shrugging while taking care not to jostle sleeping Evie, Steve frowned.

‘That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?’ He knew how Sam had meant it, but he was too tired, his mind and soul too raw from the shock of seeing Bucky alive, to make it into anything more than it was; taking care that Evie didn’t slide into a state of shell shock. ‘It worked. She’s okay. For now.’

‘That she is. Very cosy, too, from the looks of it.’ Sam grinned at him teasingly. ‘Bit young for you, though, old man.’

‘She said she’s almost thirty.’ Steve threw out automatically. Evie was about the same age as he was, if one didn’t count the years he’d been in the ice. He cursed the defensive tone that had made it’s way into his voice. _Man_, he needed a nap. 

Looking back down at Evie, he wished that he could fall asleep as easily as she had. It felt like he hadn’t really slept since... well, since he’d woken up after he’d been freed from the ice. He’d been going from one mission to the next for years now. Whether it be the prevention of an alien invasion, or beating down international threats, or wading the treacherous swamp that was US politics, it all kept him busy without much time for RnR.

A hum came from Natasha, who apparently had only pretended to be passed out from blood loss.

‘She doesn’t look thirty. Must be her rapid healing. Keeps her looking young.’ The woman’s sly green eyes pinned him down where he sat. _Wouldn’t be a bad thing, having someone in your life growing not-old at the same rate as you._ her expression seemed to convey.

_Dammit_. 

He knew without a doubt that she was plotting to interfere with his life again. His dating life, to be more precise. Something he definitely didn’t have the time nor the patience for. Neither for the plotting, nor the dating. 

There always seemed to be one more dangerous problem to solve, or one more threat to the world to eliminate right around the next corner, just as he thought his life would slow down a bit. He couldn’t drag a significant other into that lifestyle. It would be too dangerous, and too lonely for anyone who would find themselves in a relationship with a man like him; a man who went off who knows where for who knows how long, at least eighty percent of the time. Not to mention that any personal attachment of his would become a target for his enemies to exploit.

‘Damn. Girl looks barely past eighteen. You sure she’s thirty?’ Sam frowned at the sleeping woman. ‘I know a _lot_ of women who would murder someone for that kind of gift.’

‘I’ll bet you do.’ Steve shot back in a deadpan tone; not able to let the opportunity to needle the other man a bit slip away from him.

The Falcon flashed him a wide, naughty grin.

‘You know it.’

‘She heals much faster than you do.’ Natasha ignored their little verbal tug of war and raised a suggestive eyebrow at him as she verbalised her earlier facial expression. ‘She probably won’t age much, either.’ 

‘Natasha. Don’t.’ He made no effort to hide the wariness or the warning in his voice.

The redhead sighed, and shrugged, pulling a pained face when her wound was jostled in the process.

‘Oh, well, we probably won’t survive the week anyway.’ Her voice was flat, with a hint of irony seeping into her tone.

‘_You_ won’t, if you don’t keep still.’ Sam admonished her. ‘I can’t stop the bleeding if you keep moving around like that.’

‘I’m fine.’ Natasha murmured, but stopped fidgeting none the less.

They quieted down after that; each of them lost to their own thoughts as the van made its way out of the city.

Steve made himself as comfortable as he could against the wall of the van, and he’d just slipped into a waking slumber when their means of transportation came to a slow stop.

Seconds later, the side door opposite Steve slid open and revealed agent Maria Hill, their rescuer and driver, and right hand to the late SHIELD director, Nick Fury.

Early-afternoon light spilled into the dim cargo hold of the van, and Steve had to squint his eyes before they adjusted to the light of the bright but cloudy day.

In his arms, Evie turned her head away from the light, but stayed asleep, resuming her quiet, adorable snores; her breaths tickling against the sensitive skin of his neck. Steve was barely able to suppress the sudden shiver of arousal that threatened to travel down his spine and straight to his groin. It had been quite a while since he’d given in to sating any of the carnal needs his enhanced body demanded him to take care of quite regularly, and he grumpily concluded that the strain of it was really starting to get to him if he got turned on by something as innocent as a breath against his skin. From a woman in need of his help of all people. Who was sound asleep, and not even _trying_ to seduce him. 

_Fucking hell_. He needed to find somewhere private asap when they arrived wherever they were going and have some alone time to take off the edge.

Feeling like a dirty old man with the way his body had reacted to the sleeping woman, Steve forcibly pushed down any arousal he felt, hoisted Evie up in his arms so he had a good grip on her lax body -how anyone could sleep that deep under these circumstances, he didn’t know, but he admired the talent-, and stood to exit the van.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, alright, here's another chapter. ;P

**Chapter 2**

Waking up in unknown places after she’d passed out somewhere else was a habit she _definitely_ needed to break. 

Especially when an intimidating bald man, with an eyepatch like a pirate and the dress sense of Van Helsing, leaned over you and shook you awake. It didn’t matter that one of his arms was in a sling. He still looked like he could take on an army of the undead and win.

‘Miss Woods, time to go.’ Was all he said after Evie cried out in shock at being awakened so harshly and unexpectedly by a dark skinned Dread Pirate Roberts. She shot up from her perch on... some kind of sofa bed? In the middle of a... bunker? And pressed a hand over her heart to calm its pounding rhythm.

The man turned his back and walked away from her when he deemed her awake enough not to fall asleep again. As if she could after such a wake-up “call”.

Pushing away the thin, scratchy blanket that covered her, she looked around the sparsely furnished space, which consisted of four walls of concrete, a concrete ceiling, a concrete floor, and a couple of wide, metal doors. Which were closed.

_Hm... Homey... _her acerbic inner voice commented.

_Is that a hospital bed?! _Around the bed there hung a few make-shift curtains for privacy, and next to the bed stood a plethora of serious medical equipment. The sight of it made her nervous. And very cautious. Feeling wary of the man, she stood up from the sofa and slipped on her sneakers, which had been neatly placed next to it.

‘Uh... Where am I? Where’s Steve... And Sam, and Natasha? And that scary guard woman?’

‘Long gone. On a mission. Need to know only; and _you_ don’t need to _know_.’

Could he be any less forthcoming? Evie didn’t think so.

‘Right.’ She said. Then she gestured at their surroundings. ‘_Love_ what you’ve done with the place. _Such _a pleasant apocalyptic aesthetic.’ 

The man looked back at her from where he’d been rummaging around in a large, black duffle bag, with an eyebrow raised at her sassy comment before he threw a small package which resembled folded clothes in her direction. 

‘Here, put this on, smart-ass. You’re coming with _me_.’

Plucking the black cloth out of the air just before it hit her face, she held it out in front of her.

‘Where are we going? And _who_ are _you_?!’ The clothes appeared to be a pair of black, stretchy trousers, and a long sleeved t-shirt to replace the half singed clothes she was still wearing. Quickly she half hid behind one of the thin curtains, and divested herself from her ruined denim jacket and t-shirt; replacing them with the black crew neck shirt. 

The man did not answer her question and turned away from her to once again rummage through the bag. While he was pre-occupied, she hastily took off her dirty and torn jeans, and put on the black trousers; the stretchy material so comfortable she had trouble believing they were trousers and not yoga pants.

‘Wow, they are almost a perfect fit. Maybe a bit too long in the arm and leg department, but not bad at all.’ Evie said in surprise.

The man grunted something unintelligible and waved a dismissive hand.

‘Romanoff left them for you. They’re hers. You done?’ 

Shrugging, Evie gave him a small nod.

‘I think so.’

The man grumbled something under his breath before hoisting the black bag onto his good shoulder.

‘Follow me, we’re going for a ride.’

Evie’s entire being came to a full stop at the gruff tone of the barked order, and it made her lose sight of any self preservation she might have.

‘Excuse you! I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me who you are and where we’re going.’

With a long suffering sigh, the man turned to her and glared.

‘I do _not_ have time for this.’

‘Well, sadly for you, _I_ have _all_ the time in the world.’ Was Evie’s obstinate reply. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and swallowed thickly when she saw the man’s furious expression, but bravely stood her ground, scowling right back at him; no matter how much he towered over her and outweighed her by at _least_ eighty pounds. She refused to be intimidated. She’d had an incredibly atrocious day, and she wouldn’t take another step until the man explained to her what the hell was going on.

For a couple of seconds more he kept up the impressive scowl, but then he relented with a grumble.

‘I can see why Rogers likes you. No sense of self preservation, _and_ a stubborn smart-ass to boot.’ Shaking his head, he turned away from her. ‘Name’s Fury. Director of SHIELD. I’m on my way to take down Hydra’s upper management a peg or two at D.C.’s Hydra headquarters. And I can’t leave you here on your own, so...’ He looked back at her as he opened one of the steel doors. ‘You game?’

_Whoah_. Not what she was expecting. But to have the chance to try and help bring down Hydra? It was all tiny, twelve-year-old Evie had dreamed about after discovering the stories about how a small, but brave Steve Rogers had become the larger than life persona of Captain America and how he had fought with the Howling Commandos to free Europe from the Nazis. When she’d found the stories in a bookcase that belonged to one of the many foster homes she’d bounced to and fro back then, she’d read those comics and books so many times she had been able to recite them in her sleep by the time she’d moved on to another home. 

Trying to play it cool, and not betray the giddy, but nervous feeling in her gut -twelve-year-old Evie was doing a happy dance right on her stomach, she was sure of it-, she kept her face neutral, and shrugged.

‘Sabotage the plans of a bunch of Nazi wankers? Sure.’ 

She quickly followed Fury into a long, concrete corridor when he walked out through the metal door while muttering something under his breath. It sounded very much like _‘Fuckin’ Rogers!’_, but Evie wasn’t sure she’d heard it right, so she just ignored it.

As she caught up with him, and matched his pace by having to almost jog along with him, she saw how he patted his trouser pockets in search of something. 

‘Where the fuck are my keys?’ He growled, annoyed.

Without thinking, Evie blurted out the answer. Her excitement had obliterated her caution.

‘Upper right coat-pocket.’

When Fury looked at her with a frown after he’d fished a pair of keys out of the pocket she’d named, she swallowed, and blinked up at him while nerves exploded in her gut.

_Oh fuck... _Quickly she schooled her features into something she hoped looked like innocent surprise.

Then she shrugged as nonchalantly as she could.

‘Huh... Lucky guess... I guess.’

Fury only hummed incredulously before pulling open another metal door. 

Bright daylight suddenly shone into the dim corridor, almost blinding her.

Evie blinked to help adjust her eyes.

‘How long was I asleep for?’ She asked, surprised by it still being early afternoon. Her rest had felt a lot longer than just an hour or two, but the sun, which did its best to shine through the oppressive cloud cover, had only just passed its zenith.

‘You were out for almost a day. Slept like the dead. Even through a couple of loud discussions about how to best handle the Hydra situation.’ Fury narrowed his eyes at her, a cunning expression on his face. ‘Those severe burns you sustained must have taken a lot of your energy to heal so fast, and so completely.’

She ducked under the arm that held open the door and stepped outside, relieved to be able to breathe some fresh air again.

‘Yeah. I guess.’ She said vaguely; not offering any more insight into her “gift” than necessary. And how could she, when she herself had no idea how it worked. She’d had cuts, scrapes and bruises before, which had healed within minutes or seconds, depending on their severity, but nothing more serious than that. 

_Never_ before had she had to deal with the serious wounds she’d sustained the day before. Apparently, her body needed down-time to heal more grave injuries; directing all her energy to healing the wounds, and leaving the rest of her unconscious. In a sort of coma, or stasis.

It would have to be something to reminisce on later, though, because Fury led her up a staircase that wound up the entire height of a dam. Which they had been inside of for the past day, apparently. 

It did explain all the concrete, and the damp.

Leaning heavily on the railing at the top of the dam, Evie caught her breath after traipsing up the stairs after Fury, who wasn’t even winded, the bastard.

He looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

‘Super fitness didn’t come with the super healing package?’

Oh, that spark of cynical humour in his gaze just rubbed her the wrong way.

‘I work in... an office. Give me... a fuckin’ break.’ She grumbled as she panted; her burning lungs protesting loudly when she spoke. 

‘Well, if you want to keep up with any of us, you’re gonna have to work on that.’ He said as he walked up to a...

_Helicopter?! Is that a fucking HELICOPTER parked on top of a dam?!?_

‘After this, I’m going to get my pasty British arse the fuck home. So, no need for any of that... And WHY ARE YOU GETTING INTO THAT HELICOPTER?!?’ Her suddenly panicked voice rose an octave towards the end of the sentence. She was a nervous flyer at the best of times in the largest of planes. The idea of flying in this tiny -compared to a jumbo jet- thing? Not a chance in _hell_.

Fury frowned at her, and pointed into the helicopter.

‘I don’t have time for temper tantrums. I have places to be, people to eliminate. Now shut your face and get your ass in here.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You have exactly thirty seconds to comply, or I’ll leave your pasty British arse right here. Stranded.’

Evie audibly clicked her jaw shut and she huffed at the man’s rude behaviour. But she reluctantly decided that maybe going with would be preferable to being left on her own on top of a dam, in the middle of nowhere, with no means of transportation, and no survival skills whatsoever.

‘Ugh. You better not get me killed.’ she threw at him before walking towards the helicopter, and climbing in. 

Fury firmly closed the door behind her, double checking the locking mechanism, and then sat down in the pilot seat. She followed his example and planted her arse in the co-pilot seat. The man picked up a pair of large head-phones and put them onto Evie’s head; adjusting the mouthpiece before sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose, followed by the donning of another pair of headphones onto his own head. 

Within seconds, he had the helicopter ready to go, even when working with just one hand... and one eye 

_Doesn’t that affect his depth perception? Is he even allowed to fly this thing?!_

The helicopter blades sped up with each turn, and the noise inside the cockpit increased exponentially as the machine slowly lifted from its narrow perch on the dam and became airborne.

Evie firmly closed her eyes and gritted her teeth when the helicopter ascended with multiple shocks and tremors.

_Oh god, we’re gonna die._

‘Never flown this model before.’ Said Fury. ‘Takes a bit of getting used to.’ 

It didn’t sound even close to apologetic, but Evie guessed that the man probably never apologised, and this was as close as she would get to one.

‘Okay.’ She squeaked, still keeping her eyes firmly closed.

Only when the bumpy flight evened out and it felt as if they were smoothly sailing through the air, dared she open her eyes.

‘Oh, wow.’ She breathed. They were quite high up above the trees and she could see almost all of D.C.’s major landmarks in the distance. Looked like she’d still get to see all of them, if only from far away.

‘Best seats in the house.’ Fury said with a smirk. He was still flying the helicopter one-handed, but seemed to have gotten the hang of it.

Or maybe not.

The helicopter started to shake and tremble underneath her when Fury had to let go of the navigating stick to push a couple of buttons. With a groan, Evie closed her eyes again and prayed to any deity who would listen, just to get them to wherever the hell they were going, safely. 

It took them about twenty minutes to get from the dam to their destination -a very long, very turbulent twenty minutes-, and Fury set the helicopter down on top of a high, modern concrete building next to the Potomac River.

After turning off the flying death contraption, he turned to her, and scowled.

‘Now, I need you to stay here until I return. No matter what you might hear or see. Am I clear?’

Still reeling from the fact that she was alive after the bumpy ride, all she could do was nod, and croak out a shaky ‘Okay.’

Fury nodded in approval, and exited the helicopter. Within seconds he’d disappeared into the building.

It didn’t take long for Evie to start noticing things were amiss. Very much amiss. She could hear shots being fired, and shouting, and fighting. And when something exploded in the vicinity of the building, she decided it would be in her own best interest to vacate the cockpit and maybe hide out somewhere less exposed than a conspicuous, big-ass helicopter on top of a building. At that moment she was a sitting duck. Inside the building -which had been constructed from blessedly strong concrete, making it a virtual bunker- would be much more secure than where Fury had ordered her to stay.

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of the helicopter’s side-door, which she had opened to a crack big enough to just squeeze through. Keeping low, Evie ran to the entrance of the building; the same door Fury had used only minutes earlier. Quickly she hauled open the heavy glass door and walked through; breathing a relieved sigh when it fell closed behind her. She’d made it without getting herself shot or blown up.

Everything was eerily quiet inside, compared to the fighting and explosions she could still hear from outside.

Further down the hallway, she heard voices. From the sound of it, Fury had found Natasha. And someone else. A man.

Would that be Alexander Pierce?

Unable to fight her curiosity, Evie made her way down the hall until she came to a glass door. She pressed her back to the wall and peeked around the doorjamb.

Bodies in tac-gear, and even a few in suits, littered the floor.

_Holy shit. Someone really went to town on these guys... _

_Hm... My money is on Natasha._

It was then that she noticed a problem. The man standing in front of Fury and Natasha seemed to be threatening them with something he held in his hand, because both of them lowered their guns simultaneously; placing them onto one of the desks in the room, and stepping back.

_Fuck... that’s not good._

A series of explosions outside the building made all three of them turn their attention to the huge windows.

Evie followed their gazes, and gasped at the sight of three flying aircraft carriers exploding in mid-flight.

_Holy shite!_

Tearing her eyes away, Evie used the distraction to slip into the room without being noticed by any of the others.

That didn’t last long, though.

The man whom she suspected was Alexander Pierce turned around at that exact moment and saw her. In the same movement, he picked up a gun from the desk Fury and Natasha had placed theirs on only minutes before, and pointed it at Evie.

‘Hello miss Woods.’ He said. ‘How good of you to join us. I thought we’d lost you, but it seems I was mistaken.’

_Huh?_

‘You _know_ me?’ 

‘Of course, dear. And you’ve spared me the nuisance of locating you again after you dropped off the radar yesterday. How considerate.’

‘Uh... You’re... welcome?’ 

_How does he know me?!_

_How do you think?_

_Fuckin’ hell. Natasha was right about SHIELD having had their sights on me the whole time I was with Gerry. _

_Hydra._

_Right. Hydra._

‘Always so polite, those English.’ The man said to Fury. Then he gestured to Natasha. ‘Time to go, council woman. This way. Come on.’ Motioning with his gun at Evie, he inclined his head to her. ‘You too, miss Woods. Let’s go.’

‘What? But... why me?’ Evie protested; too flabbergasted to move. ‘I’m nobody.’

‘The strength of your healing factor is unparalleled. The most pure we’ve ever come across. Do you _really_ think we’d let you go so easily? When your DNA would be such help to our scientists? With your help, we could unlock the gene to immortality. You are the holy grail which will grant us divinity.’ The expression on Pierce’s face resembled something close to a religious experience.

_What the fuck is this guy on?!_

Pierce turned to Natasha again, waving the device in his hand at her.

‘You’re gonna fly us out of here.’ Looking at Evie, he sent her a triumphant smile as he cocked the gun. ‘Get over here.’

Evie swallowed, and hesitantly walked towards Natasha, who moved very slowly. So slowly that it looked suspicious.

_Is she stalling?_

Out of Pierce’s line of sight, Natasha sent her a smirk. Yup, she was definitely up to something.

‘You know, there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you.’ Said Fury; anger colouring his voice.

‘You already did.’ Pierce answered in an amused voice, half turning back to Fury.

And then, everything went to _shit_.

Pierce started to say something else to Fury, swinging his gun towards the man.

‘You will again once-’

Somehow, Natasha tasered herself into unconsciousness; distracting Pierce and apparently frying, or resetting the device he held in his hand.

The distraction worked only for a microsecond, though, because Pierce squeezed the trigger of the gun, firing at Fury at the same time as Fury fired at him. 

Or maybe just a fraction of a second later. Evie let out a warning cry, and she jumped in front of Pierce’s gun to stop the bullet meant for Fury. The last thing she saw was how two spots of red bloomed on Pierce’s chest. As he started falling backwards, his gun went off. Be it on purpose, or by accident, Evie couldn’t tell.

Not that it mattered in the end.

The most excruciating pain she’d ever felt exploded inside her head, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments are so very much appreciated.
> 
> Thank you! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the happenings at the Triskellion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, everyone!
> 
> And Happy Reading! 
> 
> XO

**Chapter 3**

Cold.

Evie shivered, pulling the sheet that covered her tighter around her body, and turned onto her side.

It didn’t help.

Slowly, she became aware of the hard, icy slab of metal underneath her. She rolled back onto her back.

_Whuh?_

Her sleep addled brain had trouble comprehending the weird environment she found herself in.

Once again, she was waking up in a different set of circumstances than the one she passed out in.

_I _ ** _really_ ** _ have to break that habit._

Stretching, she yawned, and blinked. Her eyes met pitch black darkness at the same time as her hands slammed into a metal ceiling not fifteen inches above her head.

_Wait... what?!_

Another shiver passed through her as her body jostled up a fresh boost of adrenaline. Fear coursed through her veins when she felt around and came up with nothing but cold metal walls, metal floor, and metal ceiling. 

Like a coffin. A cold, metal coffin.

_Fuck._

‘Hello?!’ She called out.

No answer.

‘Help!’ Her hands pounded against the ceiling before feeling around at the wall behind her head for some kind of way to escape.

Nothing.

‘Can anyone hear me?!’

Dead silence.

_Ohgodohgodohgod fuckfuckfuckfuck_

The claustrophobic feeling that threatened to overwhelm her almost suffocated her. The oppressive silence only broken by her panicked breathing as she pulled in gulps of air.

Again, she pounded her hands against the ceiling, screaming for someone to hear her. This time her legs and feet joined in, too. She really made a racket; the sounds of her distress echoing through... wherever she was.

‘HELP! OH GOD, PLEASE, SOMEONE LET ME OUT!’ She stomped against the wall underneath her feet. ‘HELP!’

The wall by her feet suddenly swung open, and light and warmer air flooded the coffin.

Reacting purely on instinct, she dove towards the light, feet first. Within seconds, she’d pushed herself out of the coffin, scrambling backwards, and found herself falling arse first onto a concrete floor; dragging the sheet that had covered her body with her.

‘Ow.’ She groaned, rubbing an offended arse-cheek until it didn’t hurt anymore. Which didn’t take long, thanks to her healing kicking in immediately.

The realisation that she’d hit the floor with her naked arse came only seconds later, and she scrambled to pull the sheet, which had been twisted around her hips, up over her breasts.

‘Fuck. What the hell?’ She exclaimed. ‘Who took my clothes?!’

Looking up at a pale and shaking thirty-something year old man in a white lab coat who stood next to the “door” she’d fallen out of, she frowned.

‘Where am I, and where the hell are my clothes?!’ The words came out a bit more harshly than she’d intended, but she’d been having a fucked up couple of days, and she was becoming more than fed up with the way things played out. 

The man only let out a squeak before his eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted; falling to the floor with a thud.

Evie’s eyebrows rose in surprise as she gazed down at the prostrate man.

‘_What the hell_.’ She muttered under her breath before scooting over to him. ‘Sir? Are you alright?’ She slapped her hand against his cheek; gently at first, and then a bit harder when he didn’t react. ‘Sir? Wake up!’

The man didn’t budge, and stayed knocked out.

‘Ugh. Shit.’ Evie groaned as she stood up; taking care to keep herself covered, in case anyone else came into what looked like a lab of some sort. She let her gaze travel around the room.

_Wait... Is this... a MORGUE?!?_

One wall -the one she’d fallen out of- was made of stainless steel and covered with a grid of small, metal doors. Throughout the room stood a couple of gurneys; some occupied, some not. And in the middle were a series of three operating tables. One of which was occupied by a body in the early stages of being dissected.

_What the hell am I doing in a MORGUE?!_

_Am I DEAD?!?_

She pinched her own arm, hard, and hissed when the pain registered.

_Nope. Not dead._

Raking a hand through her curls while holding up the sheet with the other, she winced when her hand got stuck in a cluster of snarls and scratchy stuff at the back of her head.

With apprehension, she pulled her fingers free from her hair and held them up in front of her face.

_Is that... blood?_

Her fingers were covered in flaky, and gritty brown stuff. It looked suspiciously like dried blood.

Within seconds everything that had happened came back to her. A wave of memories washing over her like a tsunami. 

The helicopter ride from hell.

The explosions and the fighting.

Natasha being tased.

Fury shooting Pierce.

Pierce shooting... _her_.

She remembered the excruciating pain that had bloomed in her head just before everything had gone dark.

_Wait. Was I... shot in the head?_

Her hand went to her face, feeling for anything holey. 

Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Then her hand traveled to the back of her head. 

Also nothing. If she didn’t count the gritty dried stuff in her hair.

_Ew... Yuck!_

_Oh god, is that... bone?_ She pulled her hand back and held it close to her face as she studied the hard, sharp fragment which she’d just pulled from her hair. Turning it over, a disgusted shiver traveled down her spine when she concluded that it looked suspiciously like bone. Part of a skull, to be more exact. Thin, slightly rounded and smooth on the outside.

_So, I was shot in the head... through the head. Got my flippin’ brains blown out... and somehow I survived?!_

Saying she was in a state of complete and utter incredulity would be an understatement. Also, she was more than yucked out by it. Because, again, _ew_. 

Frowning, and feeling slightly queasy, she pulled more bone fragments from her hair, dropping them to the floor as soon as she’d pulled them free from the clumpy mess that used to be her curls.

Her hair must be looking something awful. It had been partly singed off by the explosion, half of it gone by the time she got shot, and then doused in blood, brain matter, and bone.

_Yuck. As soon as I locate a shower and a pair of clippers, I’m shaving off the whole filthy rat’s nest._

Looking down at herself, she decided that something else took precedent over getting rid of her destroyed hairdo, and even over throwing up into the bucket that stood in the corner of the morgue, no matter how much her body wanted to in reaction to the traumatic experience of waking up inside a cooler in the morgue and then finding out she’d been killed and had then come back to life.

She needed clothes. And shoes.

_Where would they keep the clothes of the deceased? They must be here somewhere... can’t throw them out, can they? The deceased’s family could be wanting the clothes of their loved one back... Or maybe the police might need them as evidence in a case... right?_

Quickly she searched the closets around the room, but it wasn’t until she pulled open the last one that she came across sealed plastic bags. Bags filled with clothes.

Scanning the labels, she came across one with her name on it. Which struck her as strange, because her shoulder bag containing her belongings, her passport, and her phone, had been taken by the thugs who had crammed her into a truck with Steve, Natasha, and Sam. There had been no means of identification on her person when she and Fury had set off to the building next to the river.

Had someone identified her while she was... “out”? Or had Fury and Natasha taken her body away from the building after she’d... died, and delivered her to the morgue? Maybe they’d registered her name as they brought her in.

She ripped open the plastic and pulled out her underwear and Natasha’s tac trousers, which were still relatively clean. The shirt turned out to be unsalvageable, though, as it had been completely soaked with blood.

Pulling on her underwear and the trousers, which hung from her hips a bit looser than she remembered, but were still wearable, she felt infinitely better. Now to locate a shirt. 

Mentally sending her apologies to the family of the man whose t-shirt and sweater she nicked, she pulled on the garments, and dug up a grey, slouchy beanie from another plastic bag to cover her bloody, gnarly hair.

Last, but not least, she pulled on her own socks and sneakers, which she found in another bag, stowed away with all the other shoes at the bottom of the closet. Relief had flooded her when she’d realised she wouldn’t have to wear ill-fitting shoes for the foreseeable future. Although she healed fast, getting blisters over and over again because of too small shoes wasn’t a walk in the park. It hurt like a sonovabitch. She spoke from experience.

_I guess that’s as good as it’s gonna get for now._

On her way out of the morgue, she grabbed a leather jacket from where it hung on a coat rack and pulled it on; taking care to remove the sunglasses, car and house keys, and the wallet she found inside its pockets.

The couple hundred dollars she found inside the wallet, she kept. Usually, she was opposed to theft, but she was very much down on her luck in that moment, and she needed to get back to her hotel. Who knew when she’d be able to get some more money to tide her over? Those Hydra thugs had taken her wallet and bank cards with everything else.

The jacket was much too big on her, but she wasn’t going to look a “gift” horse in the mouth. She had no idea what the weather would be like outside. For all she knew, it was raining, or snowing. The nights had definitely been cold enough for it; in spite of it being Spring.

After wandering around a bit, Evie concluded that she was in some kind of basement, and she took the stairs to the next floor. Which turned out to be the ground floor of a hospital. People were milling about everywhere, and she had no trouble mingling with the crowd as she made her way out of the hospital and onto the street.

She was well on her way to the subway, when her whole being got distracted by the smell of grilled burgers. 

Sheesh, she was _hungry_. The deliciously greasy meat scent caused the hunger to slam into her like a sledge hammer, followed by an unimaginable thirst. For the first time since waking up she noticed how dry her mouth felt.

Almost automatically, she turned toward the diner she’d just passed and walked back to the entrance. 

Before she knew it, she’d ordered two huge burgers, a pint of coke, and a large serving of french fries, and found herself sitting in a corner booth as she all but inhaled the sustenance.

_Christ! Dying really makes you hungry._ She thought to herself as she slurped up the last of her coke. 

Holding her disposable cup up to the waitress when the woman passed her by, she requested the free refill she’d seen advertised throughout the diner.

While she waited for the sugar loaded top-up, she finished the last of her fries, the burgers already gone. She contemplated ordering more burgers, and weighed it against drawing too much attention to herself if she finished those off, too. Tiny, scrawny women usually did not eat like dock workers. Thankfully she wasn’t as hungry as she had been when she’d first ordered. The shitload of greasy food had slightly taken off the edge from the gnawing black hole that had been her stomach. 

When the waitress returned with Evie’s drink, Evie asked her for the bill, and paid it; making sure to leave a good tip for the exhausted looking young woman.

With a smile, and a ‘have a nice day’, she picked up her drink and resumed her walk to the subway while sipping the sugary goodness that was her coke. She could almost feel how the calories she’d just devoured refuelled her severely depleted energy levels.

_How long was I even out for that hole in my brain to have healed completely? And then sleeping it all off... Shit... what if it has been weeks?!_

Just before she descended into the metro station, she walked up to a newspaper stand and checked the date on one of the papers. 

_ **April 2nd** _

She blanched.

_Oh no_. 

She was supposed to be on a plane home. Not strolling around Washington D.C.!

‘Oh shit, I can’t believe I was out for _three_ freaking _days_...’ she groaned under her breath.

‘Hey, kid! You gonna pay for that?’ The news stand owner called out to her with an annoyed voice. ‘Readin’ the news ain’t free, you know. I ain’t no library.’

‘Sorry.’ She squeaked, and put the paper back down before hastily making her way down into the subway.

Inside the station thankfully hung a subway map on the wall, and she was able to pinpoint her exact location, and also how to get back to her hotel.

Not wanting to waste any more time, she threw her empty disposable cup into a trashcan, bought a subway ticket, and within half an hour she was stood in front of the upmarket hotel she’d left behind four days before to go on a day tour of the city.

Had it only been four days? It felt as if she’d lived a whole lifetime in the span of those days.

Gathering her courage, Evie stepped through the antique doors and made a beeline for the reception desk.

‘Welcome to Hotel Lombardy, miss. How can I help you?’ The receptionist gave her a polite, but slightly strained smile as he let his gaze wander up and down Evie’s scruffy looking attire.

‘Um, hi... I, uh, I suppose this sounds a bit strange, but would you happen to be holding luggage for room one-fifty-seven? I was supposed to check out this morning, but I was otherwise... detained.’ Evie asked with her most posh English accent. _Better to sound well-educated to set off against the thrift store fashion statement_, she thought.

The receptionist frowned as he typed in something on his keyboard. Then he looked up at her.

‘What was the name again?’ 

‘Evelyn Woods, and Geraint Chadwick. Room one-fifty-seven... We arrived on April twenty-sixth.’ Evie added for good measure.

‘I’m sorry, but mr Chadwick and ms Woods left this morning. I personally guided them through the check-out process... Lovely couple.’

‘What?’ Evie breathed, baffled by the statement. ‘But, that can’t be. _I’m _Evelyn Woods.’

‘Right.’ Said the receptionist, eyeing her with suspicion. ‘Miss, if you could show me some kind of ID? Then I’m sure we can clear everything up.’

Evie swallowed, feeling her stomach plummet.

‘I don’t have an ID. Someone stole my shoulder bag.’

‘Sure they did.’ The receptionist answered in a condescending tone. ‘Miss, if you can’t provide an ID as proof of identity, and you have no further official business inside this hotel, then I will have to ask you to leave.’

‘But I’m telling you the _truth_! I _am _Evelyn Woods! My bag was stolen! You _have _to believe me!’

‘Ma’am, please remove yourself from this hotel. If you really are who you say you are, then I advise you to contact the British Embassy, and report that you lost your passport. It’s only five minutes by Uber. Or a thirty minute walk.’

‘I can’t book an Uber! I don’t have a phone! Because it was _stolen!_’ Evie bit out irritably; her raised voice attracting attention from the people sitting about the lobby.

‘Then I suggest you start walking. Take a right outside the hotel.’ The man handed her one of the complimentary street maps from the hotel, and looked at her as if she was vermin when he shooed her away. ‘Now, leave, before I call the cops.’

Grumbling under her breath, and scowling at anyone who dared to look at her, Evie strode out of the hotel, taking a right, and then folding open the map to determine how to get to the Embassy as fast as she could.

—

An hour and a half later, she had finally shuffled her way through the enormous line of people who just _needed_ to be at the British Embassy for a visa.

‘Hi.’ She said to the bored looking woman behind the counter. ‘I wanted to report that my passport has been stolen, and-’

‘Are you a British Citizen?’

‘Uh, yes. My passport was stolen, so I need-’

The woman shoved a wad of forms into her direction.

‘Please, fill these out and when you’re done, get back in line.’

Hesitantly, Evie accepted the forms.

‘Okay. But-’

‘Next!’ The woman called out, completely ignoring Evie.

Evie sighed dejectedly, and stepped aside to let the next person in line step up to the counter.

It took her half an hour to fill out all the forms, and then another forty-five minutes to wind her way all the way down the queue again.

The woman behind the counter took the papers from her, and stamped each and everyone of them with a very official looking stamp.

‘Go down the hall.’ She pointed down a wide hallway as she handed the papers back to Evie. ‘And take the first double glass doors to your right. Then register yourself at the counter and give them these documents. After that, someone will come to take your picture for the new passport.’

Evie blinked. Had she really been standing in line for such a long time for just this?

‘Uh... Okay.’ She said, completely dazed by her brush with the incredibly tedious bureaucracy of the British government. If it were possible for her to get headaches, then she’d be having a full-blown migraine from the whole pointlessness of it all. Two-and-a-half hours of time she’d never get back, just to get a couple of stamps and be redirected to another part of the embassy.

Slowly, she made her way down the hallway until she spotted the glass double doors. Pushing through, she almost immediately walked into another queue. This time consisting of British citizens, going by the accents.

With a sigh, she took her place at the bottom of the queue, and resigned herself to another hour of waiting.

When she _finally_ made it to the front, the woman behind the counter took her documents, and started to silently enter her details into the computer. After a couple of seconds, she looked up, her eyes narrowing to slits.

‘You’re Evelyn Woods? From Manchester? Born on the twenty-first of July, nineteen-eighty-four?’

‘Yes. That’s me. My passport was stolen and I need a new one.’ Evie nodded and sent the woman a wry smile.

‘Then I am very sorry, but I can’t help you.’

‘What?’ Once again, Evie’s stomach plummeted in horror. ‘But I need a new passport.’

‘According to my computer, Evelyn Woods is deceased. Died three days ago, here in D.C. Apparently, she is one of the civilians who got caught in the cross fire during that _spat_ at the Potomac. I have her death certificate right here. Came in yesterday.’ The woman frowned at Evie. ‘So, I don’t know who you are, but you most certainly are _not_ her. Not only because you’re standing here in front of me, alive and kicking, but also because you look _nothing_ like her.’ She turned her monitor so Evie could look at it.

A cold shiver of horror ran down her spine.

‘That’s... That’s not me.’ She whispered, staring at the ID of a brunette woman who now carried her name.

‘You don’t _say_.’ The woman’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

‘No, no, you don’t understand! _I _am Evelyn Woods. But that’s not my picture. There must be some kind of mix-up!’

‘I’m sorry, but unless you come forward with your real name, there’s nothing I can do for you.’

‘But Evelyn Woods _is_ my real name!’ Evie exclaimed. ‘Please?! You _have_ to believe me!’ This wasn’t happening. She had landed in a nightmare. ‘Someone stole my passport! They must have manipulated the system to change the picture!’

‘Miss, you’re not making any sense. The British government has one of the most secure networks in the world. There is not a chance of anything like that happening. No chance, at all.’ She looked past Evie to the next person in line. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, there are more people who need my help. People who aren’t lying about their identity.’

Evie burst into tears.

‘No, please, you don’t understand. I need my passport. I really am who I say I am. I just want to go back home.’ She grabbed onto the woman’s hands. ‘Please.’ 

The woman pulled back her hands and shook her head.

‘I’m sorry, but if you can’t be honest about who you are, then I can’t help you. Now, if you don’t leave, I’ll have to call security, and you don’t want that. Believe me.’ She gestured to the next person in line. ‘Next, please.’

Still crying, Evie turned away from the woman and trudged out of the room. She could feel the eyes of just about everyone there burning holes into the back of her head. 

When she spotted a public restroom, she slipped inside, and locked herself into one of the cubicles, sobbing loudly, and not caring who heard her. She’d had a shite couple of days, and the whole cluster-fuck of stress, fear, and horrific happenings just needed to be purged from her body and mind.

It took her a couple of minutes, but eventually she managed to calm herself down. Sniffling, she unlocked the cubicle door and washed her hands and face at the wash basin. 

As she dried her face with a paper towel, she chanced a look in the mirror. And barely recognised the distraught woman staring back at her. Her eyes were red and puffy, even with her healing factor kicking in.

The skin under her cheekbones was sunken; her face more narrow than it had been when she’d last seen it, and dark circles lay under her eyes; the hazel orbs looking too big for her face. She looked like an anorexic, or someone who’d gone through a famine. Like death warmed over. Literally.

Shit. No wonder she was still feeling weak and famished, even after her big meal. Her body was starving for nutrients after the amount of energy it had needed to expend to heal the lethal wound to her head, on top of the burn wounds it had healed earlier on that fateful day.

With shaking hands, she pulled off her beanie, and cringed at the terrible state of her hair. there would be no other solution than to cut it if she wanted to get it clean, or even tidy again. Quickly, she donned the beanie and drank a few gulps of water straight from the faucet.

Her stomach gurgled, reminding her of the fact that it was once again empty, and that water was not food.

_Right. Food first, and then try to find a way out of this mess._

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she looked herself in the -already less puffy and less red- eyes and schooled her expression into something resembling determination.

‘You can do this. Everything’s going to be alright.’ She rambled at her reflection. ‘Everything will be fine.’

Now only to believe it.

A deep sigh escaped her and her shoulders sagged as new tears sprung to her eyes.

_Easier said than done._

Expelling a shuddering breath, Evie blinked away the tears, pulled open the restroom door, and made her way out of the embassy; passing the high security fences and checkpoint without any problems as she mingled with a large group of Americans.

She made her way back towards the city centre by way of different diners and fast food joints; eating a meal at each and every one of them. Eventually she found a pay-in-advance all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant where she was able to eat uninhibited for two-and-a-half hours straight. No-one noticed the tiny woman sitting in the small, shadowed corner booth during the dinner rush. The restaurant too busy for anyone to pay attention to the large plates of food she devoured, or the huge amount of soft drinks she drank.

After she’d finally eaten her full, she splayed out the map of the city on her table and poured over it while sipping her coke. She needed to find somewhere cheap to sleep. Her money had dwindled to only a hundred dollars after her afternoon of eating her way through the city. She was feeling much better and way more energised, though, so it hadn’t been a complete waste of money.

Thankfully, the map displayed several hotels and hostels within walking distance from the restaurant. Hostels were cheaper than hotels, right? If she could get a bed in a large all-female dorm it would be even cheaper. The less privacy, the less money it would cost.

She asked a passing waiter if he knew which of the hostels would be the cheapest option, and he didn’t hesitate to point out the one closest to the restaurant. Saying that it cost only twenty-five a night. 

Evie thanked him, and stood; donning her jacket as she walked out into the cold Spring night. Shivering, she hastily made her way to the hostel, hoping that there would still be a vacancy for the night.

She was in luck and managed to book the last bed in a six bed all-female dorm room.

As she lay down on her bed for the night, she wondered if she would be able to locate Steve, or Natasha, or even Fury, and ask them for help. Being the people that they were, they were bound to have some political pull, right? Maybe they could talk to the British Embassy and convince them that she really was who she said she was.

Slowly but surely, her eyes fell closed, and she drifted off to sleep; but not before wishing with all her heart that she’d be able to find someone who could help her get back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> If you liked the chapter, or even like the story so far, please do not hesitate to hit that Kudos button. The Muse loves those little snacks! :)  
Leaving a comment is also always very much appreciated. I love to hear from you peepz! :D
> 
> Cheers!  
XO


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onwards we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hump Day, everyone.
> 
> Here's a little something for you to break up the week.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> XO

**Chapter 4**

_Okay. Why am I here?_

Evie absently rubbed her hand over her new, seven dollar buzzcut -courtesy of the barber shop she’d found the day before - as she sat on a bench just inside the entrance of the Smithsonian Museum of American History.

After two nights in the hostel -including two free showers-, one lunch, one dinner, and two breakfasts she had had to pay for, and the seven dollar haircut, her funds had dwindled to a meagre fourteen dollars and fifty-five cents. If she didn’t find a solution to her problems that afternoon, then she’d be sleeping rough when night fell. Not something she looked forward to. Nope.

Thanks to her “pub crawl” of gluttony, where she’d eaten more than she normally ate in a week, her body had bounced back from its severe depletion, and she looked and felt a whole lot better than she had two days earlier. It didn’t stop her stomach from reminding her that she’d missed that day’s lunch, though.

Late that morning she’d set out from the hostel, focusing her entire being on finding someone who could help her, and had then allowed her feet to lead her where they wanted. Which had led her to finding herself at the entrance of the museum a little after noon.

She had wanted to enter the museum, but somehow, her whole being had frozen up just when she’d stepped inside the entrance, making it hard for her to walk any further, and she’d plopped herself down onto one of the benches that stood against the wall of the entrance lobby. Apparently, she needed to be exactly there, and through the years she had learned to listen to her intuition.

Having no idea who or what she was supposed to be looking for, she let her gaze flit over the throngs of people -tourists and school classes alike- who wandered into and out of the building through the entrance she was stuck at. If her instincts had led her to where she needed to be, then the someone able to help her with her predicament should be somewhere in the vicinity.

‘Hello there, young man. I hope you don’t mind me sitting down for a minute.’ A voice came from her left. 

Distractedly, Evie glanced to the side, at a thin, white haired, elderly man in his eighties carrying a cane.

‘Uh... no. Go right ahead.’ She said.

The man sat down with a small smile.

‘Ah, you’re English? Are you waiting for your parents? Lost them in one of these huge museums, did ya?’

Did she really look like a teenage boy to the elderly man? Apparently, the buzzcut and her slight stature, combined with the too large leather jacket, gave her the appearance of teenaged kid.

Allowing her gaze to turn back to the crowd, she nodded. Better keep to the simple explanation the man had unwittingly thrown into her lap.

‘Ah... Um, yes.’ She hesitated when she saw a face in the crowd she _knew_. ‘I’m waiting for my... brother, actually. I think I see him.’ Inside her chest the spark of recognition bloomed into the familiar warm glow that told her she had found the person she had set out to find that morning. 

_Fuck... Not who I thought I’d find... _She gulped in a breath as her eyes followed the silhouette of the man who had entered the museum as part of a group; keeping to the edges, and keeping his head down, shoulders pulled up, hands in his coat pockets, and baseball cap planted firmly onto his head, which did jack shit to hide his longish dark brown locks, but did hide a large part of his face, thanks to the visor. 

The one and only man formerly known as James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky Barnes for short, and more recently known as a Hydra murder bot, had, for some obscure reason, come to the Smithsonian.

‘Please, excuse me, I have to get to my brother before I lose him again. Have a nice day.’ She said to the elderly man, and nodded at him as she stood up.

‘Thank you. You too.’ The man said; visibly pleased by her good manners.

As she walked away, she could just make out his muttered ‘Well brought up English youth. They don’t make ‘em like that in the States anymore.’

Suppressing an amused snort, she shook her head at the old man’s misconceptions and grumblings. 

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Evie stayed behind a large group of tourists as she followed Barnes into the Captain America exhibition.

She watched him wander around seemingly aimlessly, until he came to the part where the Howling Commandos were lauded for their war heroics. Among them, of course, one James Buchanan Barnes. 

With a frown on his face he looked up at the more than life-size projection of his own face and upper body while a narrator explained Sergeant Barnes’ role as best friend to Captain America and the go-to sniper of the Commandos.

He looked so very confused and lost that it pulled at Evie’s heart strings. She had a niggling feeling that Barnes did not remember anything about the life he’d been stolen from; not in the last place because of his behaviour during his altercation with Steve almost a week earlier. Somehow, Hydra had brainwashed the super soldier into the super assassin he was in this day and age -because, in Evie’s mind, there was no way he was not enhanced; how else could he still be alive seventy years after going MIA, and be able to take on Steve in combat and live to tell the tale-.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly sidled up next to him as the crowd moved around him. While reading the accompanying text written next to his likeness, he looked for all the world to be a tourist.

‘He’s a hero.’ She said quietly, so only he could hear her.

It stayed quiet for such a long time that she wondered if he had even heard her.

‘So it would seem.’ Barnes mumbled under his breath before moving away with the crowd so fluidly and seamlessly that Evie lost him immediately. One moment he was there, then she blinked, and he was gone. Like a ghost.

‘What the hell?’ She hissed and pushed up onto the tips of her toes to see better as she looked around to see if she could spot him. Not that it helped. She was still shorter than eighty percent of the people surrounding her. Barnes had poofed out of existence while he stood right next to her and she hadn’t even noticed until it had been too late. That was some next level ninja shit right there.

Good thing she had her own next level ninja shit going on.

‘Be prepared to be amazed, Sergeant Barnes.’ She muttered under her breath, and focused on finding one Bucky Barnes. Which would be much easier now she knew _who _exactly she was looking for. Where, before, finding the person who would be able to help her had been an abstract concept inside her mind, this time she had a name, and a face. 

Knowing the feel of his ‘energy’ made all the difference, and with the single minded focus of a bloodhound, she closed her eyes and slowly turned on her axis, until she’d gone full circle.

‘_Gotcha_.’ She whispered as she tilted her head to the side and opened her eyes.

Making a bee-line through the crowd, she followed her inner radar towards the exit of the museum. Out the door... Around a corner...

An arm shot out from a narrow recess between two high buildings and she was hauled into a dim alley and thrown against the wall next to a dumpster. Evie let out a squeak at the unexpected manhandling, and then a grunt as her back hit the wall, hard.

A big hand found its way around her throat and squeezed until she could only wheeze her breaths into her lungs.

‘You are following me. Why?’ The man in front of her said tonelessly. 

Looking up into the cold and empty dark blue gaze, Evie started to fear that for once, her inner compass had turned her towards the wrong person. This was _not_ Bucky Barnes. This was someone else, some_thing_ else entirely, looking down at her through those expressionless eyes.

‘You... gonna... kill me?’ She wheezed; somehow managing a challenging tone. 

_What are you _**_doing_**_?!_ her inner voice of reason screamed at her after the display of utter disregard for her own wellbeing. _He _**_is_**_ gonna kill you! Just look at him!_

Barnes -or whoever he had become after Hydra had fucked him up- tilted his head at her moxie, frowning in confusion.

‘You are not nearly as afraid as you should be.’ He said, puzzled. And proceeded to squeeze harder, until black spots appeared in front of Evie’s eyes due to lack of oxygen. Her hands clawed at his arm instinctively, but it did nothing but make him squeeze a bit more. Then he suddenly relaxed his fingers. Slightly. And she could breathe again. Slightly. ‘Speak.’

Apparently, he wanted an explanation. Evie pulled in a wheezing breath, and spoke. Or maybe it sounded more like verbal diarrhea. 

‘A couple... of days ago... Alexander Pierce blew my brains out... Literally. Shot me... point blank through the head... There was no brain, or cranium... left to speak of... Woke up three days... later in the... morgue. Completely whole... Gave the... medical examiner... the scare of a... lifetime when I... crawled out of his fridge stark naked... So... Please excuse me if... your threats don’t really do... anything for me... Cuz’ I don’t think... death is gonna stick... for me... It just... hurts like a sonovabitch, and afterwards... I’m so hungry I could... eat a horse.’ She sent him a defiant look. ‘So please... go ahead, strangle me and dump my body in this dumpster... if you like... It’ll just slow me down, but... I’ll be on your trail again... within hours. A day at the most.’

Before she could blink, a gun was against her head. Cocked. His glove clad metal finger a hairs-breath from squeezing the trigger.

_Great. Well done. Why don’t you just give him all your weaknesses, too?! From the frying pan..._

‘Yeah... that’ll buy... you three days... Or two-and-a-half, to be exact... And I’ll just... find you again.’ She interrupted her inner monologue with even more provocation as she raised an eyebrow at him; completely ignoring the tightness around her neck as he still squeezed hard enough to keep her oxygen intake restricted. ‘I’m... annoying... like that.’

A couple of seconds passed; an internal struggle clearly visible on his face. On the one hand, the cold, calculating part of him contemplated killing her, she could see it in his eyes, but something else -the something she was banking on- seemed to hold him back. 

Then he sighed and put the gun away; the hand around her neck loosening its grip to the point that he still held her immobile against the wall, but at least she could breathe normally again.

Barnes’ eyes were glued to where he’d squeezed her so hard that he’d severely bruised her throat. Evie knew what he saw. Her skin returned back to its normal shade of pale pink within seconds, leaving no trace of his actions behind.

She could feel how the inner bruising of her larynx also cleared up without any trouble and she cleared her throat to get rid of any residual hoarseness.

Barnes’ gaze slowly lifted to hers.

‘What do you want?’ He asked tonelessly, his face back to a mask of indifference.

Evie could appreciate his directness and made her response just as direct.

‘I need your help.’

He let out a humourless, incredulous laugh.

‘Kid, I’m the last person you should come to for help.’ Shaking his head, he dropped his hand from her neck and took a step back. Evie noticed he still took care to stay behind the tall dumpster to keep himself hidden from any prying eyes that might look their way from the street outside the alley.

He loomed over her, tall and broad, and slightly menacing, as he narrowed his eyes at her.

‘Why do you need my help?’

‘Because I _died_, and someone, somehow, stole my identity, so now _I_ don’t exist, and nobody believes me when I tell them who I am. And I just want to go home to the UK, but I can’t, because I don’t have my passport anymore... And I’m _not_ a _kid_. I’m almost thirty for fecks sake!’

Barnes blinked at her a few times, and then his slightly surprised gaze traveled from her buzzcut to the fine bone structure of her face.

‘You’re a _woman_?!’ He exclaimed incredulously as he bent at the waist to study her closer.

_Right. That does it! Condescending asshole! _She knew she wasn’t what most people saw as the embodiment of femininity, but his reaction was just uncalled for.

Without much further ado she socked him on the chin. It didn’t even cause him to jerk his head or flinch, and she was pretty sure it hurt her hand much more than it did his jaw. He did not look impressed. _Dammit._

‘You’re damn right I’m a woman!’ She threw out indignantly. ‘Ow... Asshole.’ She added with a grumble as she shook the pain from her hand.

‘Sorry, Doll, it completely slipped my notice that you’re a dame.’ He gestured at her short, diminutive stature and haircut, and chuckled. ‘I thought you were a boy in his early teens. Fourteen or fifteen at the most.’

Evie stared up at him in fascination as she observed how a piece of pre-wartime Bucky Barnes, the charming ladies’ man, took precedence over the Hydra murder bot personality she’d been speaking to.

It lasted only seconds, though, before the spectre of who he had been for the past seventy years and up until a few days earlier slid back in place, shuttering away anything other than the stone cold killer he’d become.

‘Regardless. I can’t help you.’ He rumbled in that flat voice, and started to turn away from her.

‘Bullshit.’ Evie had no idea where she got the audacity to call out a coldblooded assassin, but she had a slight inkling that her death experience had something to do with it. She was pretty sure that she couldn’t die if he tried to kill her... or, to be more exact, that she wouldn’t stay dead if he did kill her.

_It will feckin’ hurt, though! You crazy cow! And what if it was a one off? Maybe you just got lucky last time! Have you even considered that?!_

_Oh_.

_Yeah. Thought so._

Barnes froze, and whipped his head around, scowling at her.

‘What?’

Evie swallowed, but stood her ground.

‘Bullshit.’ Repeating the sentiment, she gathered her courage. ‘You are... You _were_... at least, I hope you _were_, otherwise I’ll probably be scraping my own brains off this wall in a few seconds.’ She mused before coming back to the matter at hand. ‘You were an assassin for Hydra, and before that, one of the bravest men I’d ever read about when I was a kid. There is no way you don’t have the training or the skills to get me out of this country, and then back to the UK.’

‘Why don’t you go to Captain America for help?’ Barnes rubbed the line between his eyebrows as he mentioned Steve. As if it hurt him to even say the man’s title, let alone his name.

‘Because, this morning I set out to find the person who could best help me get home, and my path led me straight to _you_, and _not_ Steve.’ She watched him cringe when she spoke the name. ‘So,’ she shrugged, ‘here I am. You’re stuck with me, not-Steve.’ When she saw his incredulous stare, Evie decided to elaborate. ‘Look, no-one else knows this, but apart from my healing, and being unable to stay dead, I can find stuff... and people. I don’t know _how _it works, exactly, but I have this... _thing_ inside me that leads me to whatever object, or whichever person I’m looking for...’ Barnes let out a disbelieving huff, but did not comment and just stared at her intently, so she continued. ‘It’s weird, I know, okay, but it hasn’t led me astray before.’ 

Suddenly her fuck up of a few days earlier came to mind, when she got herself shot at and shot dead, because she’d thought it would be cool to see Captain America out and about in D.C., and she amended her statement. ‘Well... not much, anyways. And if I go to Steve, don’t you think he’ll ask me to help him locate you, his best friend in the whole wide world? And that’s something I don’t think _you_ want, otherwise you’d be by his side by now. And I’d help him, too. I mean, have you _seen_ his face? All pretty, and earnest, and sad? He’s like a puppy... with big, blue, sad puppy eyes. I wouldn’t be able to refuse help to a puppy... So, the way I see it, you’re better off helping me get home. Then I’ll be out of the way. Steve won’t have me to help him find you, and _you_ can go on doing... whatever you’re doing right now.’ She pulled in a breath after her rant and raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Deal?’

She went cross-eyed as she stared straight into the barrel of a gun. She hadn’t even see him draw, he’d been so fast. His empty gaze stared right through her.

‘_Or_ you could kill me dead.’ She added with a sigh. ‘Which won’t work. I _told _you. I’ll just find you again in a few days.’ 

She hoped. She was banking a lot on her ability to reanimate and she wasn’t even sure it would work a second time. A bead of sweat rolled down her spine as she stared death in the face.

Barnes eventually lowered the gun, and then put his fingers to his temples; rubbing at them while still clutching the gun in his right hand. He looked like he was developing a major headache. A headache she had caused. Probably. No saying what Hydra had been up to inside his brain for the past seventy years. Now that she thought on it, his head hurting probably had more to do with that than with her being annoying.

At that realisation, a wave of compassion hit her so hard that it almost took her breath away. And suddenly she felt so guilty for trying to manipulate him into helping her. 

_Yeah, way to go Eves. Blackmailing a mentally damaged and tortured POW into doing your bidding. You have a fantastic moral compass._ The biting sarcasm of her inner voice made her cringe.

_Shit._

She’d been so focused on getting home and leaving the whole cluster fuck of her holiday in the US behind, that she’d lost sight of everything else.

‘You know what?’ Sidling out from between Barnes at her front and the wall at her back, she walked around the assassin as he turned with her and kept her in his sights; eyes sharp and weary, following her every movement. ‘Never mind. I’ll find my own way home. Have a nice day.’

If she’d thought that she would get away that easily, she’d thought wrong.

The fingers of his metal hand folded like a band around her left forearm; holding her tight, but not too tight. It did stop her from walking away, though. 

_Aw, hell no._

‘Hey. Let go.’ She protested.

‘I need you to find something for me.’ He said. 

‘What?’

‘There’s... something I _have_ to find.’ His frown deepened as he rubbed his temple with his right hand; gun once again safely tucked away in its holster under his arm.

‘Uh... okay... what do you need to find?’

‘A...’ Barnes hesitated and shook his head. ‘It’s a... a tin.’

‘A tin.’ Evie deadpanned. ‘That’s not much to go by.’

‘It’s in my... bedroom.’

‘Your bedroom? Is this a test of some sort? If it’s in your bedroom, then you can very well go find it yourself.’ Indignant annoyance boiled up where before there had been compassion.

‘No, you don’t understand. It’s... it’s an old... small... cookie tin. It’s hidden...’ He hissed and shook his head again. As if to dislodge something.

_Is he remembering things? It looks like it hurts him..._

‘I hid it behind... the skirting board in my bedroom.’ Barnes eyes widened slightly as he remembered. ‘My bedroom... at home.’

‘Okay. And where is home?’ She said slowly; afraid of the answer.

‘Brooklyn.’ Yup. There it was. Memories from before his capture were returning.

‘Dude, that’s, like, three hundred miles from here! Why do you need it so much?!’

Sadness and confusion warred behind his eyes. It pulled at her heartstrings, but not as much as his answer did.

‘I... I don’t know... I just _know_ that I need it, but I can’t remember where the house is.’ He sounded almost desperate.

Unstable.

_Not good. Get out of here. Now!_

She attempted to get away by trying to pull her arm from his grip. It didn’t work of course. What it did elicit was his knee jerk reaction of pulling his gun on her. Once again she looked down the barrel of the gun, Barnes’ eyes cold and menacing as they gazed at her.

‘Really?!’ She asked him incredulously. ‘Dude, we already concluded that that won’t work.’ Mentally keeping her fingers crossed she watched as the Winter Soldier receded from Barnes’ gaze.

Barnes shook his head, and blinked. Then he looked at the gun, surprise flitting over his face before he quickly put it away.

‘Please.’ He said, his gaze pleading.

Evie sighed as she thought it over. 

_Are you really considering going on a wild goose chase with this guy? Who’s to say it’s even still there? The house, or the tin for that matter... _

_But he needs my help. He doesn’t have anyone else... Besides, I have to get back to the UK._

‘So, let me get this straight. If I help you with this, then you’ll help me get home?’ She asked for good measure. 

Responding with a nod, he let go of her arm and put his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

‘You have my word.’

Those beautiful, but haunted, dark blue eyes were trained on her face as if willing her into assent. 

It was more than she could take. 

_Oh well, in for a penny, and all that bollocks..._

With a groan, she threw up her hands, and watched him tense and adjust his stance, as if expecting an attack. She decided to ignore it.

‘Ugh. Fine. I’ll help you find your cookie tin.’ Gesturing for him to lead the way, she grumbled under her breath. ‘But you better hope that the sodding thing is still there, or I’m gonna kick your arse.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, hello there, dear reader!
> 
> Wanna let me know that my endeavours into writing were not for naught? Leave the Muse some Kudos or a Comment. She thrives on that shit. ;P
> 
> Thanks for reading, my lovelies!
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> XO


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday/Happy Weekend, everyone! :)
> 
> And Happy Reading! 
> 
> XO

**Chapter 5**

Saturday, 5 April 2014, 0:22AM.

‘Don’t...’ Evie gasped for air. ‘Don’t you... _ever_... do that... to me again!’

Lying on her back, panting violently, and feeling as if her heart and lungs were about to leap out of her chest, she stared up at the ceiling of the freight car. 

‘Sheesh... what is it with you hero... or anti-hero in your case... types and running and climbing?!’ Still gulping in air, she could feel how the freight train they’d just -illegally- boarded picked up speed as it came out of a rather steep bend in the tracks. ‘Can’t you just do things in a calm and collected manner?’

Barnes’ frowny face appeared in her line of sight. He wasn’t even winded. 

_Bastard!_

It had taken them all afternoon and a large part of the early evening -and a shitload of stolen cars- to get out of a heavily patrolled Washington D.C., because people were still out looking for Barnes, apparently. They’d had to zig-zag a lot, and backtrack a couple of times until Barnes had deemed the coast clear enough to move on.

Then, the assassin had made them wait in a secluded, wooded area for over an hour, before jumping into action when a train approached through the trees. Evie hadn’t even noticed the tracks, and Barnes had been less than forthcoming about his plan to get them to New York. He’d just sat quietly on a log, staring straight ahead, waiting for god knows what, and did not answer any of her questions.

Eventually she’d gone quiet, too, and sat down next to him, interspersed with bouts of walking circles around the log and jumping up and down to keep warm in the frigid night air.

Running after him when he’d taken off through the trees, she’d had trouble keeping up; stumbling over gnarly tree roots in the darkness, and even coming close to face-planting into the leaf covered ground a couple of times.

Of course, Barnes had looked like a sleek panther, loping through the underbrush without any trouble until he ran parallel to the trein. Then he grabbed the side of a freight car, hauled open its huge door, and swung himself inside as if he did things like that every day. Which he might. Who was she to say he didn’t.

Just as she’d thought he would just leave her behind on the tracks, he’d stuck his head outside and held out his metal hand for her.

‘Come on!’ He’d called out, willing her to run faster with his eyes.

Which she somehow managed to do without getting herself ground to a pulp underneath the fast turning iron wheels of the train. Which had been so very close to her almost comically pumping legs. _Don’t fall don’t fall don’t fall... _

With and incredibly powerful leap, having no idea how she managed that one, she’d pushed herself forward, managed to grab his forearm with her hand, and felt his fingers fold themselves around her wrist. 

Then she’d swung through the air. _Ohgoooooooodddd, I’mgonnadiiiiiiieeeee! _And had landed, relatively controlled, as Barnes took care not just to drop her, on her back on the floor.

Rolling onto her side, she pushed herself up; shaky from the adrenalin surge that pumped through her veins.

Wind whipped around the car until Barnes pushed closed the heavy door. Then there was just the rhythmic cadence from the train, and their breathing.

Evie could hear her partner in crime ruffle through his backpack -which he’d picked up from the empty warehouse he’d stashed it in before they set off that afternoon-, and, within seconds, a small torchlight illuminated the inside of the freight car.

Apart from a couple of large crates, it was empty. Though, not as empty as it seemed. When Barnes came back from doing a perimeter check, which took only ten seconds, he dragged with him a pile of burlap sacks, and a dirty, lumpy pillow. Apparently, they weren’t the first drifters to use the car as an alternative mode of transportation.

As Evie stood on wobbly legs that felt like they belonged to a newborn calf, she yawned.

‘How long until New York?’

‘All night. Unless this train stops somewhere and have to jump trains.’ Barnes spread out the bedding and threw the pillow onto it. ‘Sleep. I’ll keep watch.’

‘For what?’

‘What?’ His gaze uncomprehending to what she meant.

‘You’re keeping watch for what? We’re on a moving train, and the one exit and entrance is closed and secure... After all that’s happened in the past few days, I’m sure you’re exhausted. I think if you’re ever gonna be able to sleep safely, this is the time. Tomorrow we’ll be on the road again, and then you may want to be vigilant instead of asleep on your feet... And I’m sure you’ll wake up before this train stops.’

He stared at her as he seemed to weigh the pros and cons of her argument. Then he inclined his head and sat down on the edge of the pile of sacks, stretching his legs out in front of him, leaning his back against one of the crates, and folding his arms across his chest. Nodding at the remaining space next to him, he repeated his earlier statement.

‘Sleep.’ 

Without further ado, he closed his eyes and almost immediately dozed off.

Quickly, Evie lay down onto the sacks and pulled her beanie down over her ears before laying her head down on the pillow. Who knew what kind of creepy crawlies it housed. Then, she too closed her eyes and slowly drifted off.

—

Just after dawn Barnes had woken her up, and they’d exited the freight car when the train slowed down; Evie almost face-planting because she’d miscalculated their speed when she hit the ground running. Thankfully, her travel companion had caught her before she’d lost all of her teeth -_would those have even grown back?_-.

After their early morning run away from the train, they’d -Barnes had- hot-wired a car, and within the hour they were crossing a bridge into Brooklyn.

On their way North, they’d only stopped for a bathroom break at a diner, and went through a drive-thru for two coffees, a waffle, and a sandwich; which they bought with Evie’s last money.

Barnes parked the car next to the curb of one of the brownstone lined streets, and turned his head to silently look at Evie.

Evie took a large sip of her huge take-away cup of caramel latte and stared right back.

‘What?’ She asked before having a “duh” moment. ‘Oh... Right. Gotta do my thing now.’

Closing her eyes, she concentrated. 

‘Alright, what does it look like? Your cookie tin, I mean... Visualising always helps.’

As he haltingly described the tin, sometimes hesitating when he couldn’t remember entirely, she built an image of it in her head, and nodded.

‘Right. Got it.’ She opened her eyes, took one last sip of coffee, stowed her coffee cup in the cupholder, and got out of the car; Barnes following her example.

Then she turned on her axis, going full circle, getting a feel for the neighbourhood. _Find Bucky Barnes’ cookie tin. Find Bucky Barnes’ cookie tin._

In spite of her doubt on whether the thing would still be where he’d said it would be, she found that familiar tug and tingle behind her sternum.

_Well, colour me surprised and spin me sideways. There’s a lead._

‘Does anything look familiar to you?’ She asked as she took off down the street.

‘No.’

_Well, okay._

Humming, Evie followed the tug inside her and went around a corner, down another street, and then another corner, and another street. And so on. They were going in circles; or a spiral to be more precise. Honing in on one exact spot.

Looking up at the small, wooden plank clad house on the corner of a row of small, wooden houses, situated next to a high, brownstone building, she nodded at the pale green facade, with the stone steps up to the dark green front door behind a black, cast-iron fence and gate.

‘Does this look familiar?’ She asked the man standing next to her. 

If she hadn’t been able to see him out of the corner of her eye then she’d have thought that she was stood in front of the house on her own. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. For a long time there was only silence.

‘Yes.’ He then said hoarsely.

Her gaze shot to his face when he spoke, and for a fraction of a second she saw such raw pain and sorrow on his features that it made her want to cry. Her eyes watered and she quickly looked the other way to hide it, but not before she witnessed how that cold, hard mask of the assassin slid back into place.

She didn’t even have the time to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall. Within microseconds he was moving towards the gate.

‘Whoah! Wait! What are you doing?!’ Hurriedly she caught up with him and planted herself in his path, hands pushing against his chest to stop his advance.

‘I’m getting the tin.’ He said matter-of-factly, stepping around her.

Quickly, she moved with him.

‘Oh, _no_, you’re not. **_We_** are getting that tin. And we are going to **_ask_** for it. _Nicely_.’ She frowned up at him. ‘Or, even better, _I’m_ going to ask for it. You’re staying right here, by the gate. You’re much too murderously intimidating to be asking anything of anyone living in that house. You’d make them pee their pants. Or call the police... And we _really_ don’t want that.’

‘But-’

‘_NO_. You,’ she pointed at him, ‘stay _here_.’ she pointed at the paved sidewalk. Giving him a stern look, she pulled the beanie from her head, stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket, and stepped through the gate and up the stairs to the front door.

Looking back to ensure that Barnes still occupied his position by the fence -which he did, thankfully-, she knocked on the door.

It didn’t take long for someone to answer it, and Evie put an apologetic smile onto her face when she spoke to a woman in her mid to late sixties.

‘Um, hi. Sorry to disturb you, but my friend there,’ she pointed at a scowling Barnes, ‘used to live in this house when he was younger, and he hid something very dear to him behind the skirting board in his bedroom, and he is wondering if he could have it back? We wouldn’t even have to come in. He can tell you where it is, and then you can get it-’

‘I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.’ The woman interrupted Evie with a confused frown gracing her face. ‘My family, my mother’s family, has lived in this house for almost a century. There is no chance that you have the right hou-’

‘Sarah?’ came a shaky voice from behind the woman. ‘Who is it, dear? The milk man?’

‘No, mom, some woman who wanted to ask me something.’ The woman named Sarah turned her head to look at the elderly woman behind her. She looked to be at least in her nineties. ‘Something about that man over there who she says used to live here and hid something behind the skirting board in his room. But I don’t think-’

‘What?’ The elderly woman sounded less shaky in that moment, and stepped up to stand next to her daughter. ‘What man?’ She narrowed her eyes behind her thick glasses to focus them on Barnes, who was stood ten feet away, on the pavement. The woman breathed out in a whoosh and then said in a fragile voice, ‘Bucky?’

The woman named Sarah turned to her mother and shook her head with a sympathetic expression on her face.

‘No, mom, uncle Bucky died in the war, remember?’

The elderly woman frowned at her daughter and huffed.

‘Don’t talk to me like I’m senile! I may be ninety-two years old, but I’m not soft in the head, young lady!’ Then she looked back at Barnes. ‘James Buchanan Barnes! Is that really you?’ Tears glistened in her eyes as she drank in the sight of her long lost brother. ‘Well, don’t just stand there! Come on up and give your sister a hug, will ya?’

‘Mom...’ the other woman sounded so doubtful.

‘Rebecca?’

Evie’s gaze traveled to where Barnes still stood as if nailed to the pavement, unable to move.

‘What? Rebecca?! When have you _ever_ called me Rebecca? If you want a hug you better call me-’

‘Becca-bear.’ Barnes whispered brokenly, his clouded eyes betraying that he was far away, in another life, another era.

‘That’s right. Bucky, it _is _you!’ Becca pressed a hand against her mouth as she leaned onto a cane with the other; tears rolling down her wrinkly cheeks, but dark blue eyes -the same colour as Barnes’ eyes- shining brightly with joy behind her glasses. ‘Mother was right, you _are _still alive. She _never _believed you were gone. _A mother knows_, she always said, and she was _right!_’

‘I... I can’t...’ Barnes looked lost as his gaze flitted from Becca to the street and back. He looked like he was three seconds away from running.

‘Come dear, help me down the steps. If my brother can’t come to me, I’ll go to him.’ Becca said to Evie. ‘I’ve waited long enough for this moment... Oh, when Steve came back the way he did, I secretly hoped... But I never really believed I’d see Bucky again.’ 

Slowly, Evie helped the woman down the seven steps, until they were stood in front of Barnes.

Becca pushed open the gate, stepped into Barnes’ personal space, which made him tense up, and then laid her pale hand against her brother’s cheek. She looked him in the eyes, and sighed.

‘Oh, my darling Bucky, what have they done to you?’

That was all it took, a look, a touch, and a question.

‘_Becca_.’ Barnes’ arms were around his frail sister as he pulled her against him, folding his body so it sheltered hers, and buried his face against her shoulder. He breathed hard and loud as he lost the battle with his emotions. But he did not cry.

His sister rubbed her hand on his back as she tried to console him.

‘That’s it, let it all out.’

Evie doubted that he’d _let it all out_ when he calmed down again within seconds. It was scary to see how he reined in his emotions until he became the flat, one dimensional being he’d been when she’d first seen him. 

‘Come,’ said Becca, ‘have you eaten yet? I have blueberry pancakes fresh from the pan. You remember mother’s recipe, don’t you?’

Barnes said nothing, but allowed her to lead him up the steps, and into the house, past a worried looking Sarah. Evie hesitated as she debated following them; not sure if she’d be welcome.

Then Sarah sighed, and nodded her head towards the front door.

‘Well, are you coming or not?’ She asked Evie.

‘Oh, uh, right.’ Evie said, and took the steps two at a time before following Becca and Barnes through the hallway, and into the tiny kitchen, where both Evie and Barnes were planted onto a chair each, and had a plate with pancakes placed in front of them on the small, square kitchen table within ten seconds of sitting down.

How Evie had ever thought Becca frail, she didn’t know, but it became clear to her that the woman was a force of nature as she watched her flit around her kitchen.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Evie wasted no time drowning the her pancakes in syrup and digging in. The pancakes were fluffy and delicious. In between bites, she answered Becca’s questions as well as she could, while Barnes mechanically ate his pancakes in silence. Cut, bite, chew, swallow, cut, bite, chew, swallow. Until the stack on his plate had gone.

When he was done, he meticulously laid his knife and fork onto the plate and sat back, back ramrod straight, hands resting on his thighs, and stared at the red and white checkered table cloth. 

Evie kicked his boot under the table, and his gaze flew to hers. She pointed at a chatting Becca with her head, nudging his boot again. He just stared at her with those hollow eyes.

_Right. No manners._ She cleared her throat. 

‘Thank you so much for the pancakes, Becca. They were delicious.’ Then she blinked at Barnes, willing him with her gaze to say something.

He finally caught on.

‘Yes. They were very good.’ He said woodenly. Then he stood. ‘I would like to get the tin, now.’

Becca nodded; the woman apparently knew immediately what Barnes was talking about.

‘Go ahead, only you know where to find it.’ 

When Barnes had left the room, she turned to Evie.

‘We never changed it, you know... His room, I mean. Our mother was convinced he’d come back, and she was adamant it would stay exactly the same. After she and my father passed away, and I was widowed, I moved back in here, and I just couldn’t change it. She’d be so sad if I did.’

‘Ah.’ Was all Evie said. What else could she say to a woman whose mother had been so overcome with grief that she’d made her dead son’s bedroom into a shrine for him. A time capsule, never to be disturbed.

Upstairs, she heard Barnes’ footsteps as he walked into one of the rooms. Then a bit of scraping. And then silence.

After about ten minutes of talking with Becca about her own life, the quiet from upstairs became alarming. Evie just couldn’t stand it anymore when it stretched and stretched.

‘I’m sorry, would you mind if I go check on him? He’s been a while... And he’s been having trouble... adjusting...’ She helplessly gestured towards the stairs.

Becca shook her head and smiled.

‘Go right ahead. It’s the room at the top of the stairs and then immediately to your left.’

‘Thanks.’ 

As she walked up the stairs, she observed how Sarah walked out of the sitting room, her face tense as she made her way to the kitchen. Evie nodded at her in passing.

At the top of the stairs, she turned to the door to her left and knocked before entering.

‘Hey.’ She said when she saw Barnes sitting on the threadbare rug next to a narrow, single bed; the small cookie tin -looking exactly as he’d described it to her- sitting on the floor between his spread legs.

Silently, she sat herself down beside him, sitting cross-legged. She bumped his shoulder with hers.

‘So. On a scale of one to ten, how impressed are you with my built-in thingy-finding radar?’

Barnes kept on staring at the tin.

After some more silence, she opened her mouth to say more, to say _anything_ to pull him out of his quiet suffering, when he spoke.

‘Twenty-one.’ He mumbled. Evie smiled when her attempt to get him to talk worked. Then he nodded at the tin. ‘Stevie gave me that... for my twelfth birthday. He was only ten, his eleventh birthday still a couple months away, and he’d scraped the money together from the odd jobs he did around the docks, and as a paperboy after school. He was so tiny, so thin, and so... _fragile_. He got sick so often, but he was no quitter. He pushed through. Every single time... Everything he earned went to his mom. To help with the rent, and keep food on the table, because a lot of the money she earned went into buying medicine for him. But every now and then, she’d give him a nickel to buy something for himself. But he didn’t. He saved it all up to buy me a birthday present.’ 

He turned the tin around, jostling the things inside, and Evie noticed an old, yellowed label sticker on the bottom.

“_To Bucky, Happy birthday, pal! From your best friend, Steven Grant Rogers. March 10th 1929” _It said in faded pencil, written in a childlike cursive hand.

Evie’s heart clenched at seeing the testament to their long-standing friendship. 

To read about it in books while she’d been a child turned out to be completely different from experiencing it by sitting next to Barnes and hearing him reminisce on the past, and by looking down at a battered, but cherished cookie tin which hadn’t seen the light of day in at least seventy years. 

‘He wouldn’t even take _one _cookie. He said it was _my _birthday present and I was to eat _all _of them.’ Turning the tin back around, Barnes flipped up the lid, and it sprung open on its squeaky, brittle hinges.

Unable to control her curiosity, Evie leaned forward to see what treasures lay inside.

Barnes pulled out three dollar bills, and she saw how one side of his mouth quirked up slightly.

‘I was saving these for lean times.’

Putting the bills down, he took out some knick-knacks. A couple of buttons, a bent paperclip, a safety pin, some dimes and nickels, two cigarettes and a small matchbook, a condom that was way past its expiry date, and a few scraps of paper with phone numbers written on them. The usual “treasures” for boys in their late teens during those times Evie reckoned. 

_Money, smokes, girls, and sex. Not much has changed. The more times change, the more they stay the same. _She chuckled silently at the thought.

Next up was a small stack of photographs, printed on thick paper; all black-and-white, of course.

As Barnes slowly picked them up out of the tin, Evie couldn’t help but glance at them, too.

_Ah, so that’s why he’s here._

Finding the cookie tin had been nice and all, especially because it had been a gift from his best friend, but finding these pictures had been much more important. Anyone could see that. 

One would only have to look at Barnes’ face as he drank in the images of a life long gone. He might not have known why he wanted the tin so much when they set out on this journey, but Evie was sure he’d discovered the why right when he’d opened it.

The first picture portrayed two young boys of about eight or nine, standing together in front of the same house Barnes and she had stood in front of not an hour before. The taller, dark haired boy had his arm around the slender shoulders of a smaller, fine-boned, blonde boy. Both of them sported wide, toothy grins as they smiled at the photographer.

Evie suppressed a snicker at seeing the naughty smiles and the laughing eyes of both boys.

‘Oh dear, you two must have been such menaces at that age. Just look at those up-to-no-good grins.’ She remarked.

Barnes hummed.

‘Those boys drove their mothers nuts sometimes.’ He said before falling silent again as he looked at the next picture. And then the next. And the next.

In front of Evie’s eyes unfolded a story untold. 

Steve at age ten, and Bucky at age twelve. Bucky looking at the still new cookie tin in his hands while Steve brightly smiled up at him.

Steve at about thirteen, and Bucky slightly older at fourteen, maybe fifteen. Steve still tiny and frail, but Bucky already a lot taller, and broader. Both were sat at a table at what looked like a school dance, with their dates next to them. Steve looking away from the camera at his date who seemed to be saying something; and Bucky gazing at Steve.

Steve, taller now, but still small compared to Bucky, at maybe age fifteen, and Bucky at about seventeen; both of them smiling at the camera while leaning against each other during some sort of family gathering. Easter, maybe? Evie could just make out a dark haired girl with bunny ears perched on top of her head and a basket in her hands in the background. Becca?

Steve, standing at about the same height as in the previous picture, but a lot thinner and more sickly looking, and an almost fully grown Bucky standing tall and healthy next to him; his arm wound tightly around Steve’s boney shoulders as Steve smiled tiredly into the camera. Bucky looked down at him, though. A worried sadness marring his handsome features.

‘That was his seventeenth birthday. He’d caught a fever, and then pneumonia in the weeks before. Almost didn’t make it that time.’ Barnes quickly put the photograph behind the others; as if being reminded of that time still was too much to handle.

The next picture was one of Steve and Bucky, both in their late teens, both with dates, at a movie theatre. Bucky’s date looked a lot happier than Steve’s, though, and Steve looked so very uncomfortable as he gazed into the lens that it elicited a giggle from Evie.

‘Poor Steve. He looks like he’s about to run off.’ 

‘Yeah, I’d arranged a double date for us. Steve never did know how to handle himself when talking to a pretty dame. He’s put his foot in his mouth more than once over the years... And most dames never wanted anything to do with him, because he was so small and slender... And sick a lot.’ Barnes elaborated, and put the picture away, revealing the next one.

Steve and Bucky, in their early twenties, standing in front of a window. There was so much back lighting that nothing more than their silhouettes were visible.

‘That was the day when we got the keys to our own apartment. It was small, and a dump, but it was ours.’

Steve and Bucky sitting on a couch, heads close together, smiling at each other, arms around each other’s shoulders, next to what should have been a Christmas tree, but looked more like a bunch of bare branches with silver tinsel and a few baubles thrown haphazardly across them. 

The last one was a close-up photograph of only Steve, deep asleep; the face with the pronounced cheekbones, straight nose, and half opened, full lips visible in en-profil. A soft, white morning light played over the planes of his face and made him look like something out of a fairytale. All elfin, nothing human, and so incredibly beautiful in his fragility.

Barnes touched the picture with his fingers. A touch so gentle, it was barely there.

Not the touch of a friend.

‘You loved him so much...’ Evie blurted out. Steve’s behaviour when confronted with Bucky being alive made _so_ much more sense in this new light. ‘You _love_ him.’ She repeated for good measure. ‘And he loves you.’

Barnes shook his head, his eyes conveying a feeling of such loss and emptiness that it made Evie want to throw up.

‘No. Bucky loved him. I’m not Bucky. Not anymore. I will never again be him. I can’t be what... _who_ Steve needs me to be.’ He picked up something from the bottom of the tin. Something wrapped in a small sheet of paper. Folding it open, he revealed a thin, almost fragile golden ring with a tiny, tiny diamond set into the band. ‘This is his mother’s wedding ring. I have to give it back.’

‘He... he gave his mother’s wedding ring to you?’ Evie blinked. She hadn’t thought society would have been that openminded back then. 

‘After she passed. As a promise. Nothing else. That he would be there for me, and I would be there for him, no matter what. Anything else would have been a death sentence. Especially for him. He would have never survived prison.’ Barnes hung his head as he carefully folded the ring back into the paper, and put it next to the tin. He returned each and every treasure -except the ring- to the tin, including the photographs, and closed it tightly. Then he put it into his backpack.

Standing up, he picked up the paper wrapped ring, slung his backpack over his shoulder and held out a hand for Evie to help her stand. Evie took it, and he pulled her up.

‘Come. Let’s get you home.’ He said, and went in front of her as he walked out of the room.

It was such a significant sign of trust in her that it brought tears to Evie’s eyes. Only a day earlier, he wouldn’t even have _thought_ about allowing her at his back. It told her how he was already changing into something... _someone_ other than the monster Hydra had turned him into, even if he didn’t see it yet himself.

From downstairs came a sudden shout. Becca.

‘Bucky! You have to leave! Now! I’m so sorry! Sarah called the authorities. They’re on their way!’

‘Mom! Do you know who he is? That’s the man they call the Winter Soldier! I didn’t recognise him at first, until I saw the news just now. He’s a Russian spy! An assassin, a murderer, a cold-blooded killer! You don’t know what he’s done in Washington! It was all over the news!’ Protested Sarah.

‘I don’t care! He’s still my brother. No matter what they made him do!’ Came Becca’s stubborn reply.

Following Barnes down the stairs, Evie observed how he hugged his sister, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then handed the small package with the ring to her.

‘Give this to,’ he swallowed thickly, ‘to Steve when you see him. It’s important. Tell him... tell him, I’m sorry.’

Becca nodded, took the wrapped ring, and put it into her apron pocket. Tears shone in her eyes as she looked up at her brother.

‘Be careful... No, go through the gardens. Your secret path is still mostly there.’ She said when Barnes turned towards the front door. ‘It’s safer if no-one sees you leave.’

Barnes inclined his head, and after a hard stare at Sarah, he disappeared into the kitchen. Not even checking if Evie followed.

Evie gave Becca a quick hug, and said ‘thank you’, and couldn’t help but say something to Sarah.

‘You know, if he really was the monster you believe him to be, he’d have shot you point blank for your betrayal.’ When Sarah paled at hearing her words, Evie decided that her work was done and quickly ran after Barnes, who by then had already reached the back of the garden and ducked through a small opening in between a couple of bushes.

What followed, she could only describe as a mad dash through gardens and alleys, until they finally resurfaced onto what looked like a broad street filled with shops. Bucky unexpectedly put his arm around her shoulder, and steered her into a crowd of people.

At first, Evie tensed, but when nothing else happened -like yelling, or shooting, or explosions-, she relaxed.

_Ah, we’re going up in the masses, looking like a guy and his girl perusing the shops; together with hundreds of other people._

Quickly, she fished her beanie out of her pocket and put it on. Not only because her head felt cold with her extremely short shave, but also because it was what most people -_fuckin’ hipsters_\- were wearing as they strolled from hip thrift shop to hip coffee house to hip restaurant .

Overhead flew two helicopters into the direction they’d come from, and she could hear sirens, too. 

Barnes ducked his head until his breath ghosted over her cheek. She could only just suppress a shiver when his deep voice rumbled next to her ear.

‘We are going to walk to that blue car over there, and get in.’ 

She nodded her head almost imperceptibly and followed his lead.

He took something out of his jacket pocket and held it against the locking mechanism of the car, just as he had done the day before, as they had made their way out of D.C. Immediately, the doors unlocked. 

The gadget did not work on older cars, but the newer ones, the ones with all the technology? Like a charm.

Within seconds, they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, my lovelies!
> 
> Comments, Kudos, Balloons, Sky Writing Airplanes; the Muse thrives on it all. So, don't be shy, and leave us some nomnoms. 
> 
> Cheers!  
XO


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my peepz!
> 
> Here's a little something for ya to get ya through the coming week. :)
> 
> Happy Sunday, and have a good Monday, everyone!
> 
> Cheers!

**Chapter 6**

Veracruz, Mexico, Friday, 11 April 2014, 10:49AM

It had taken them almost seven days to get to the port of Veracruz in Mexico. In the US they couldn’t risk taking the main roads, because of the manhunt for Barnes still being in full swing, so they had stuck to the secondary roads. Also, there had been a lot of zig-zagging through different states.

Getting into Mexico hadn’t been the hassle Evie had expected it to be. Barnes had conjured up a pair of fake Passport IDs for them; bought off a shady looking fellow in an alley somewhere in Arkansas... Or had it been Oklahoma?... Payed for with money he’d lifted from the purse of a socialite looking woman in Nashville, Tennessee.

The Mexican border official hadn’t even looked very closely at their pictures, or their names. Their car had been waved through while the official seemed to be very bored with his existence. It had been a bit of an anti-climax for Evie, who had expected to have to at least swim the border river or something. But, no. The most uneventful border crossing ever.

During their road trip south, Barnes had been semi stable. He’d been quiet and brooding as he drove, only speaking when necessary, but not violent. At least, not while he was awake. On the rare occasions that he slept, only two or three hours at a time, the most monstrous nightmares imaginable plagued him. She knew, because he always woke her up with his cries and screams; throwing out Russian and English words in a warbled mess when he eventually woke himself up with his own thrashing and yelling. He always woke up swinging, and had trouble focusing and grounding himself in the present. It always took him a couple of minutes -closer to fifteen, than a couple, if Evie was honest- to calm down after that.

She felt so helpless on those nights. 

The first time it had happened, she’d tried to wake him up, but that had been a big mistake. Had she been a normal person, she wouldn’t have survived the full force of strength the Winter Soldier unleashed on her before he was awake enough to realise she wasn’t a threat.

When she’d finally come to, she’d found him sitting in a corner of the motel room they’d rented to get a little rest that did not involve sleeping in reclining car seats. He’d stared at her with wide, unseeing eyes; clearly so traumatised by what he’d done to her -what the Winter Soldier had done to her- that he’d run from her the moment she’d approached him. If she hadn’t tackled him on his way to the door -no, she was not ashamed to admit she’d hooked one of her feet around his ankle as he passed her and had caused him to face-plant into the wall-, and given him a stern talking to on how running out on her would be an asshole move, she didn’t think she’d have ever seen him again.

Though his violent outburst had worried and scared her -and, fuck, had it hurt before she lost consciousness-, she also understood that it hadn’t been him. Not really. It had been the horrific Winter Soldier programming Hydra had put into his mind. Something he had shown to have control over when he was awake. Mostly.

After the incident, he’d kept his distance from her even more than he had before, never touching her, always keeping at least three feet between them when they weren’t in a car. And he’d warned her to never _ever _try and wake him up from a nightmare again; his eyes still shadowed and haunted by the memory of waking up and discovering her face and upper body being punched over and over by his own fists, and then having to watch her slack, unconscious body heal itself; mending the ribs he’d broken, the bruises he’d caused, the nose he’d fractured, and the lacerations to her face and chest, all within half an hour.

Yeah, she’d gotten the memo. Loud and clear. It was not something she wanted a repeat of. Or a reminder. Once had been more than enough. Don’t touch the dude while he’s asleep. Got it.

Which meant that she had to helplessly watch and listen as his mind relived the things that had been done to him, and the things he had done to others, over and over again as he slept. It was a torture in and of its own. It made her want to hug him and tell him that everything would be okay. And, when he slept so fitfully, it made her silently cry bitter tears of grief for the man he used to be and the man he had been forced to become. Eventually, when she could no longer stomach his grunts and cries, she’d started to talk to him, reassuring him in a low, comforting voice during those fits of horrific dreams that that was all they were, dreams. That the horrors weren’t real anymore. A couple of times she’d even managed to calm him down enough that he kept on sleeping; still fitfully, but calmer none-the-less.

Evie startled from her thoughts when the driver’s side door of the car that had brought Barnes and her to Veracruz was pulled open. A waft of hot air and exhaust smells whooshed into the air-conditioned cabin of the car.

Barnes sat down in the driver’s seat and dumped his backpack in the backseat.

‘I got us a spot on a cargo ship heading for Europe.’ He handed her a fake passport. A different one from the one they’d bought in the US. ‘Congratulations, you’ll be my little brother for the coming four and a half weeks.’ He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

‘Your what?’ She exclaimed as she flipped open the passport. _Name: Flynn Jones. Nationality: British. Born: 15 January 1998._ ‘You did not only turn me into a boy, but you also made me _SIXTEEN_ years old?!’

‘No-one’s gonna believe you’re older than that with your build and your squeaky voice. So I made you a teenager.’

‘My squeaky v... Or, oh, I don’t know, you could have just let me be _a grown woman_?!’

‘They were looking for a kitchen assistant as the previous one jumped ship somewhere in New Orleans. And mostly, they don’t hire women to do the grunt work on a cargo ship.’ Barnes rubbed his fingers over the beard that covered his lower cheeks and jaw. It had grown wilder as they traveled further south. When she’d first seen him, two weeks earlier, he’d had some stubble, but now his facial hair had graduated into a full beard. Which had been smart thinking on his part, because it prevented him from being easily recognised. ‘Besides, it was the only opening they had that didn’t require a lot of heavy lifting or knowledge of the mechanics of a ship.

‘Alright, but how are we going to keep it a secret for _four and a half_ weeks that I’m a woman? Tell me that. I mean, I’m estimating I’ll be having my period in about three weeks, so I _will _have to visit the toilet more often, and I _will _have tampons and pads to dispose of. And are there even private showers or washrooms on that ship? Or are they communal shower and dressing rooms? There’s _no_ freaking way that I’m not showering for over a month, especially if I’m on my period. And don’t you think my tits and the absence of a certain male appendage won’t raise a few eyebrows when I go prancing around communal showers?’ Was it the light, or did the skin above her companion’s beard colour a light shade of pink? _Nah, must be the light. _‘Where are we going, anyway?’

‘Shopping.’ He mumbled.

‘For what?’

‘Work clothes, toiletries, and safety boots. And something to bind your... assets.’ Barnes glanced at her chest, and swallowed thickly before he continued. ‘We got a small bunkbed cabin to share between us, because the larger dorms were full. According to the shipping company, no-one ever wants it, because its too cramped and it has no air-conditioning, so it can get very hot and stuffy inside with two people. I don’t know anything about the showers. Didn’t ask.’

_Ok, so, I don’t have to to get changed for bed under the watchful eye of a dorm room full of men. Great... Fuck, I hope that the showers aren’t communal._

‘Alright.’ Evie said. ‘And what kind of work will you be doing?’

‘Heavy lifting and assistant mechanic.’

‘Are you even licensed for that tech stuff?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh.’

‘My papers might be out of date, though.’ Was that a hint of humour she heard in his voice?

‘Ah.’ 

‘So, I bought some new ones.’

‘Of course you did.’ She deadpanned. ‘When does the ship leave?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Where did you even get the money to get us new fake passports, _and_ yourself a whole new stack of mechanic diplomas?’

‘Won it in a poker game.’

‘Right.’ _Not believing that for even a second._ She remembered that he had disappeared for a few hours a couple of nights earlier, when they’d just crossed the border into Mexico and had opted to stay at a crappy, cheap hotel. ‘Do I want to know?’

‘No.’

—

Going clothes shopping for a stint on a cargo freighter had turned out to be much more complicated than Evie had initially thought. Apart from two sturdy, waterproof duffle bags, they had both needed safety jackets for visibility for whenever they would be out and about on deck, steel toed work boots, two pairs of sturdy cargo trousers each, three long-sleeved work shirts each, and a hard hat each. Evie needed two kitchen outfits, and Barnes needed more safety gear for when he worked with the ship’s engines. Thankfully, the shipping company had sent them to a specialty shop in the harbour which carried most work related goods. 

After a bit of searching, they also managed to find a shop that carried underwear; which Evie was so thankful for after having to alternate wearing her one pair of knickers for a week and going commando while said knickers dried after a wash, that she almost hugged Barnes.

They had a short stop over at a supermarket, where all kinds of necessities were bought; from shampoo, to sun screen, to Evie’s tampons and pads, and even a strip of cloth that could be used as a binder for her breasts. 

Evie felt quite relieved that there was not that much to bind to begin with when she tried the thing on in the bathroom of a temporarily rented harbour hotel room -where she opted to take a long shower, because who knew what the showers would be like on board-. Even with her small chest, the pressure around her ribs felt like it could become uncomfortable really fast.

Barnes had given her a couple of safety pins to pin the cloth into place, but no matter which way she bent and shuffled, she could not reach the part at the side of her chest where the cloth ended to fasten it _and _keep it tightly wound around her torso. Each time she tried to pin it down, the cloth loosened and fell away from her chest.

_Shite._

She needed help.

Sighing, she flipped open the lock on the bathroom door and stepped into the hotel room.

‘Sorry, can you maybe help-’ Looking up from where she was still struggling to keep the cloth in place, Evie fell quiet.

Wide-eyed, she stared at the broad, muscled back of a half naked Barnes as he picked up one of the new shirts from where it lay on the bed. His new cargo trousers hung low and unbuttoned on his narrow hips; something she distractedly noticed -along with the perfectly chiseled eight-pack abs and defined pecs- when he half turned around at the sound of her voice. 

But that was before her eyes landed on the horrifically scarred flesh where his cybernetic arm had been attached to his shoulder. It looked like it had hurt horrendously when they had forced it onto his body. Hell, it looked like it still hurt.

‘_Oh shit._’ She breathed, and she involuntarily took a step toward him, her hand raised as if to touch him, while tears welled up in her eyes when the realisation of the immense violation of his body and soul by Hydra hit her. That she had been forced to helplessly listen to his excruciating cries during the night amplified the pain and sadness she felt on his behalf. 

Barnes quickly stepped back to avoid her touch, pulled on his shirt, and buttoned his trousers. Then he turned to face her completely. 

‘You need help?’ He asked quietly, avoiding her eyes.

Evie blinked away her tears, and nodded.

‘Uh, yes. I can’t get this blasted binding to stay in place long enough to pin it down. If I hold it together, can you put in the safety pins?’ She cleared her throat to get rid of the hoarseness she heard in her voice, and held out the pins to him.

Silently, he stared at the pins for a second before he took them from her and nodded.

Taking care not to flash him her tits, Evie wound the cloth tightly around her chest again, and held the edge pressed against her ribs so it wouldn’t slip free.

Then his fingers gently slid between the tight cloth and her skin, to prevent the pins from poking into her body as he fastened them to the binder.

Evie sucked in a breath at the unexpected touch of his warm fingers. He had been so averse to touching her over the past week that this sudden change in attitude threw her a bit. 

Barnes froze at hearing her gasp.

‘Did I hurt you?’

Chancing a glance up to his face she noticed the worry in his eyes.

She shook her head.

‘No. Wasn’t expecting the touch. Sorry.’

He hummed and resumed his task.

Swallowing, Evie tried to ignore his nearness. Tried to ignore how much bigger and stronger he was than she. How warm he was. And how good he smelled... She caught herself subconsciously leaning closer to him, and started to silently berate herself.

_Jesus Christ. Get a grip, Woods! He’s a severely traumatised POW who does not need any more complications in his life than the ones he’s already got._

Seeking a distraction, she watched how his metal hand skilfully attached the four safety pins to the binding.

‘Does it still hurt?’ The question flew out before she could stop it.

Barnes attached the last pin, and stepped back.

‘Does what hurt?’

She gestured to his arm.

‘Your arm. They still look painful... the scars, I mean.’

Looking at his metal hand, he made a fist and then relaxed it again. The silence between them stretched for so long that she didn’t think he’d answer her. But then he did.

‘Yeah... Sometimes.’ He seemed to think it over a bit before amending his statement. ‘No, that’s not right. It does still hurt constantly, but it’s like a slight, nagging pain. I don’t really notice it anymore, but it’s always there, in the background. Sometimes it just hurts _more_... After a difficult mission.’

He didn’t have to elaborate further for Evie to understand that with a difficult mission he meant a mission where he’d needed to fight hard, and maybe even overtax the prosthetic. 

‘I’m so sorry.’ She said, looking up at him, trying to convey her compassion through her eyes.

‘It’s not your fault.’ He refused to meet her gaze.

‘Regardless. I’m sorry it still hurts.’ 

‘I’m sorry it hurt _you_.’ The regret in his voice cut through her soul. ‘It’s an abomination... _I_ hurt you. _I’m_ an ab-’

‘_No._ You are _not_. What happened was an accident.’ She interrupted him before he could finish his sentence and then completely bulldozed over that part of the conversation by holding out her hand towards his prosthetic arm. ‘May I?’

She met his hollow stare with a gaze filled with determination and curiosity, and, although it took him a couple of seconds to react, he hesitantly placed his metal hand, palm up, in hers.

He held his hand completely lax as she turned it over in her hands and then pressed her fingertips against his; the metal slightly cooler to the touch than her own skin.

‘Can you feel this?’ Then she slid her fingers around his wrist and squeezed lightly. ‘And this?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘What does it feel like?’

It stayed quiet for a few seconds as he thought it over.

‘Like the arm is asleep. I feel the pressure and the warmth of your hand, but it’s as if there’s a thin overlay that prohibits me from feeling it like I can with the other hand and arm.’

It didn’t escape her notice that he’d said _the_ arm, not _my _arm. And referred to it as _it_. As if it were a separate entity. Part of the Winter Soldier. Not of him.

As she let her hand travel up the arm, her fingers ghosting over all the different metal plates which made up the arm, she could feel how the metal warmed when she went past his elbow. A distinct change in temperature.

_How much of your real arm is still inside?_ She wondered, pressing her fingers into the biceps, which, of course, did not budge. She realised she’d asked the question out loud when he answered her.

‘I don’t know.’ His voice low and rough, she only then realised how close they stood, and how she was basically feeling him up, with her hand closing around his upper arm and squeezing gently before she even registered what she was doing. Quickly, she let go.

_Oops._

Swallowing thickly, she chanced a glance up at his face, and for the first time in what seemed like days -which was true, when she thought about it, he hadn’t looked at her straight on since _the incident_-, his eyes met hers. Really looked into hers.

Dark blue and unreadable, his gaze unnerved her to the deepest reaches of her being. She couldn’t tell if the being staring back at her was the Winter Soldier, Barnes, both, or something... someone else entirely.

‘Oh.’ She said. She didn’t know if it was in answer to his response, or to the deep, intense gaze that lingered longer than it should. Nerves exploded like butterflies inside her tummy, and she got the impression that whomever was looking at her through Barnes’ eyes waited for her to make some kind of... move? mistake? retreat? She didn’t know.

The incredibly loud sound of a ship’s horn startled them both out of the silent face off, and Evie’s attention diverted to their impending departure.

‘I... I, uh... I better get dressed.’ She said, stepping back towards the bathroom when she realised she was still in her underwear. 

_Oh, shit, did I really walk out of the bathroom in just my knickers and binder?! _She hadn’t even noticed with how occupied her mind had been with fastening the resisting cloth. _Way to go, Eves, flash him some tits and ass why don’t cha?_

Closing the bathroom door behind her as she felt how her cheeks heated up in mortification, she looked down past her flattened chest at the mens’ boxer briefs Barnes had insisted she buy. Ladies’ knickers would be too conspicuous when doing laundry on the ship. If she was going to be a boy, she’d have to look the part, even when it came to her underwear.

_They look almost like shorts, right? Nothing too revealing... And besides, he’s gay... _She frowned as she remembered the dark, penetrating gaze that had made her tummy flutter, but did not betray a thing of what the man had been thinking. 

_He’s in love with Steve..._

...

_Isn’t he?_

Shaking her head at the silly direction her train of thought suddenly took, she quickly put on her own cargo trousers and shirt. Both had been bought slightly too big, so she would look like a kid who still had to grow into his baggy clothes, while said baggy clothes hid any womanly curves she might have. 

She snorted at the idea. _Yeah right. Me and having womanly curves..._

After pulling on her socks as she jumped around on one foot, and then the other, she took one last look in the mirror and decided that it was as good as she was going to get as a boy. As used to her own face as she had become over the years, she had no idea how well she passed as one, so she stepped back into the hotel room, and cleared her throat to get Barnes’ attention.

Putting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head at him.

‘How do I look?’ She asked.

He took one look at her and said, ‘Wrong.’

‘Wrong?’ She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘What do you mean, wrong?’

‘You look like a boy, but you stand like a woman.’ He said, and walked up to her. ‘Teenage boys don’t stand like that.’

Tapping his foot against the inside of her ankles, he made her widen her stance, until her feet were planted at shoulder width and her weight had been distributed over both legs.

‘Better.’ He said. ‘Now, put your hands in your pockets, and hunch your shoulders a bit. Try and look like you don’t give a fuck about anything. Act like you have a lanky body, and are indifferent to what the world should think of you.’

Evie tried to take note of all his remarks on how to act like a teenage boy. Hell, if that’s what she needed to do to get her arse home, then she’d do it.

By the time they left for the ship that evening, all their belongings stuffed into the two duffle bags, Barnes had given her a crash course in walking like a dude, talking like a dude, and having an attitude like a dude. The dude in this case being a sixteen year old teenager. He’d even taken her out to a tavern and showed her how to eat like a dude. 

‘It all basically comes down to being clumsy, lanky, and graceless. A sixteen year old boy has yet to grow into his body, is completely baffled by a world that has suddenly changed in relation to his own changing dimensions, and his hormones are going haywire, while he’s trying to hide his insecurities and show everyone who’s boss.’ He’d said when they had returned to the hotel room to pick up their bags.

‘Phew, no pressure then.’ Evie had mumbled under her breath, and then, louder, ‘And what name am I supposed to be calling you in the coming weeks, brother dear?’

‘James.’

‘James Jones?’ 

Barnes had shrugged at her amused expression.

‘It’s as good a name as any other.’

‘Alright, JJ. Whatever you say. Let’s get this feast on the road.’ She’d slung her bag over her shoulder and preceded him out the door.

Ten minutes later they were crossing the narrow, aluminium gangplank which led from the shore to a doorway into the belly of the ship that would be their home for the coming month. 

Before Evie knew it, they were inside a small office, handing their passports to the man who checked in the new employees, signed a few papers, got their passports back, were handed their work schedules for the week, and then they were escorted to their quarters by one of their crew mates.

And that was that.

They were James and Flynn Jones, crew men on the container ship Eugen Maersk. Under contract with the Maersk Line shipping company until they made port in Le Havre, France.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! You are awesome! :D
> 
> Please take a couple more minutes to leave me a comment, or some kudos. I love hearing from all of you.
> 
> Have a good week! 
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> XO


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Humpday, everyone! :)
> 
> Here's another update. Yay!
> 
> XO

**Chapter 7**

Port of La Guaira, Venezuela. Friday, 18 April 2014, 2:43 p.m.

Kingston, Jamaica - Cartagena, Colombia - La Guaira, Venezuela. Seven days on the ship, and Evie knew she was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. 

As she leaned on the port side railing next to the bridge of the ship and looked out over the busy port of La Guaira, Venezuela, the afternoon sun shining down on her strawberry blonde curls -which were starting to grow back-, she breathed in the warm sea air, and heard the seagulls’ cries while a sea breeze played with the sleeves of her oversized T-shirt and cooled the heat of the sun on her body. 

Lunch time had come and gone, and she had a couple of hours off before preparations for dinner commenced. Being in the ship’s galley for a big part of the day, preparing food for a crew of thirty always hungry men -or so it seemed-, was hot and hard work, but she didn’t mind it. The head chef ran a tight ship -or galley in this case-, and he could be a bit of a tyrant when breakfast, lunch, or dinner time came around, but he was never unjust. Thankfully, they always made extra food for the men who were on night shift, so they could re-heat it themselves during their “lunch time”, and the kitchen crew didn’t have to work nights. 

Her typical day started at six in the morning, preparing breakfast -and dinner for the night shift-. Then she was off from nine until eleven. Lunch shift from eleven to two. Time off from two until five. And then, from five until eight, dinner shift -and breakfast for the night shift-. Usually she was in bed by nine or nine-thirty p.m. and slept until five-thirty a.m. Only to do it all again the next day.

In spite of the long days and the hard work, the fixed rhythm came easily to her, and she had to admit that she loved her life on the ship -hence the deep trouble. She did _not_ know if she even _wanted_ to leave it all behind once they’d reached their destination-. 

Her alter ego, Flynn Jones, had been accepted by the crew without much fuss, in spite of his lack of experience at sea and his youth. A lot of crewmen were in their forties and fifties and had families with teenaged children of their own, and they had taken Flynn under their wing as a kind of surrogate son; teaching him about the sea and the ship.

Evie imagined it was a bit what having a family felt like. Something she’d never really known growing up, she’d found on the ship... And it was all a ruse, a mirage. Her guilt about lying to the crew grew with every day she spent with them. They thought she was a boy; the curious little brother of thirty-one-year-old Jimmy Jones -or JJ, as the men had come to call him-, the tall, strong, and silent mechanic who preferred to work the quiet nightshifts and kept to himself, only speaking when absolutely necessary. As time wore on she became more and more averse to the lies she and Barnes had told the men.

Barnes and Evie had fabricated a background story for themselves, where Flynn Jones had come to the States to visit his seafaring older brother for a couple of months; as a sort of sabbatical from school. And now they were on their way back home. Or at least, Flynn was. James Jones would make sure Flynn got home safe and then he would be off again. They’d explained that their differing accents, and their age difference, were due to James’ father remarrying Flynn’s mother, a British woman, a couple of years after James’ mother died; Flynn’s mother giving birth to Flynn ten months later. Flynn had grown up in England, and James had moved back to the States when Flynn had been only three and James had turned eighteen, leaving Flynn behind with his father and stepmother. They’d seen each other on and off over the years, but didn’t know each other that well. This “trip” had been the first time they’d spent a lot of time together. Flynn’s penchant to spontaneously go on adventure had had him take a plane -without his parents’ knowledge- to the States, and to his brother. After that, Flynn had convinced James to take his little brother on for a few months, and their parents -after they’d stopped being very angry with Flynn- had eventually given the go-ahead.

An easy to remember back story which would explain the gaps in their life stories if one of them ever fucked up by not remembering something they should, or told something about themselves the other had no recollection of.

The whole thing had started to feel off to Evie, it grated on her conscience, but she hadn’t had the chance to talk to Barnes about it.

Apart from during breakfast and dinner, Evie hardly ever saw him. He’d been scheduled for seven night shifts during their first week at sea, which meant that when she got off work at night, he’d already headed off to the engine room after his breakfast to pull a shift from eight pm until twelve am, and then from four am until eight am, which meant that when she got off the breakfast shift, he’d be in bed, sleeping; and when she’d gone to the cabin they shared at around four in the afternoon the day before yesterday, he’d already been gone. She hadn’t been able to find him anywhere. Which was fuckin’ stupid, because they were on a ship. A very, very big ship, she had to admit, but a ship nonetheless. There were only so many places he could be. Lately, it had started to feel as if he’d been avoiding her like the plague.

The crew members who had not been assigned to the galley always worked two four hour shifts in the span of twenty-four hours. Evie didn’t know what Barnes did during his four hours off -from twelve to four- each night, but she did know that he never came to the cabin to take a nap -like everyone else did-. She’d had to use the loo at two or three am a couple of nights in a row and she’d noticed him still gone. He probably went to the galley to eat something and relax a bit in the rec room, before starting his second four hour shift of the night. Or that’s what she’d told herself.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over her and someone big and burly sidled up to where she stood at the railing, leaning on it and mirroring her stance.

‘Hey, Flynn, watcha doin’?’ 

Markus. The other chef on the ship. 

Together with him, and the head chef, Carlos, she made up the galley team. Carlos and Markus did all the buying and preparing of the raw food, and then the cooking of it, and she did everything else; from serving out the food, to the washing up of all the dishes and cutlery, to cleaning the kitchen counters and the stoves, to mopping the floors, and hauling stuff to and from the freezer or the cooler for one of the chefs during the galley rush hours.

Markus, an American national who was in his late thirties, had been very friendly and helpful when she’d first started working in the galley. 

He still was. 

And yet...

She couldn’t put her finger on it.

Something wasn’t _right_... At least, that’s how she always felt when she came out of a shift at night and thought about her day just before she was about to fall asleep in her bed, but then she’d see him again the next day and blame her feelings of unease on being tired the night before, because he had been nothing but jovial and forthcoming in his acquaintance with her. Or with Flynn to be more exact.

‘Hi, Markus... Oh, you know, just hangin’ out. Admiring the view.’ She said as she nonchalantly gestured to the docks.

Markus snorted as he looked at the dirty docks with their heaps of containers and their weathered cranes, and the sheet metal warehouses with the chipped paint further inland.

‘Yeah, great view...’ He said, amused sarcasm colouring his tone. ‘So, is yer brother still on nightshifts? I haven’t really seen him ‘round today.’

Evie nodded.

‘Yeah, tonight is his last night. Then he has tomorrow off, and starts seven days of day shifts the day after. Hopefully I’ll see him a bit more when those start up.’

‘Aw, you missin’ yer big brother?’ He teased, eyes dancing with amusement. ‘He still not coming in to sleep at night?’

‘Yeah, kinda. I dunno what he does when he’s off, but he refuses to take a nap in between shifts.’ Evie shrugged, and then pulled a face when Markus fished a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to her. ‘No, thanks. Those things will kill you. Stinky cancer sticks.’ She wrinkled her nose.

‘Come on, party pooper.’ He said, pushing the packet out towards her. ‘It’ll grow some hair on yer chest. Make ya a man.’

Shaking her head, Evie once again refused politely.

‘Okay, suit yerself.’ Said Markus as he took out a cigarette from the packet and put it between his lips before lighting it and putting the lighter and the packet away again. ‘These things are the only vice allowed on this damn ship. Can’t even get a decent drink.’ He spoke around the cigarette hanging from his lips before he took a deep drag and leaned forward as he supported himself on the railing with his elbows, placing one of his boot covered feet on the bottom rung of the metal barrier. 

Evie knew that that was a lie, because she’d smelled the booze on him a few times. She suspected he had a secret stash somewhere, as alcohol was a strictly forbidden substance on the container ship. She only hummed vaguely in answer to his complaint.

He bumped her shoulder with his in a playful manner, pulling her from her thoughts, and took the cig out of his mouth to blow a cloud of smoke into the air.

‘No drinkin’, no smokin’. I guess ye’ll stay a boy for a little bit longer then, amirite?’ He laughed at his own joke.

Evie chuckled a bit, feeling uncomfortable with the way he’d worded it. She had no idea why, but his joke felt off.

‘I... guess.’ She said hesitantly and pushed away from where she’d been leaning on the railing, hunching her shoulders and putting her hands into her pockets. ‘Well, I better be off and see if I can find JJ. We both have a day off tomorrow, and I really want to go ashore. See a bit of the locale. I’ll ask him if he wants to come too.’

Markus nodded and slapped her on the back in a friendly manner before letting his hand slide around her bicep and squeezing it.

‘You do that, kid. If he don’t wanna go, I’ll be happy to take ya on my own day off in one of the other ports.’

‘Alright.’ Evie said as she cautiously stepped away from the man, trying to make it look casual. ‘I’ll see you later.’

His hand fell away from her arm, and he sent her a jovial grin.

‘Yup. Galley opens at five sharp. Don’t forget.’

‘I won’t.’ Quickly, she made her way into the ship and down to the deck where Barnes’ and her cabin was located.

Checking the time on one of the clocks hanging around the ship as she passed it, she noticed it had already gone three. If she was fast, she could squeeze in a quick shower and a nap before she had to go to work again.

Barnes was once again glaringly absent from the cabin when she entered, his bed didn’t even look slept in.

As she put together her toiletries, towel, and clean underwear, and stuffed them into a plastic bag -thankfully, in spite of being outside their cabin, and a bit down the hall, Barnes’ and her shower and toilet were for their sole use, as the other dorms were located on another part of the deck, and had their own en-suite shower rooms and toilets; something she’d be eternally grateful for-, her mind wandered to Markus and the way he’d touched her. 

He’d always been touchy-feely with Flynn, from the moment she’d stepped foot in the galley, and at first she’d figured he acted that way with everyone. But he didn’t. He was always friendly and helpful towards his crew mates, but he never touched them the way he did her -or Flynn, as it were-. 

The touching had also become more frequent as of late, and a bit more... bold... If one could describe it as such. Never anything untoward, but the touches... they sometimes lingered a bit too long for her liking.

At first she hadn’t thought anything of it, assuming that it was just his way of communicating, but lately, it had become more... conspicuous?... maybe? She couldn’t quite pin it down in her mind. All she knew was that it made her feel increasingly uncomfortable, but she knew she had no solid evidence to file a complaint about him. She couldn’t just go to the captain and tell him she didn’t like the way Markus treated her, because he didn’t treat her -Flynn- badly. He treated Flynn like everyone else on the ship if one didn’t count the additional touches. It would be a teenager’s word against his, one of the most senior members of the crew. He’d been with them for years.

And what did she _have_ against him, anyway? Only the feelings of discomfort she got after an interaction with him. It wasn’t much -if anything- to build her case on.

Sighing defeatedly, she decided to let it go for the time being. She could only hope that he would stop eventually, when he realised that Flynn didn’t appreciate the handsy behaviour. 

Markus seemed like a nice enough person, maybe he didn’t even realise that what he did made her skin crawl. If Flynn talked to him about it, the man would probably be horrified, and then apologise and stop the inappropriate touches.

Evie decided to take it up with him the next day, after his breakfast shift.

Feeling relieved that she’d finally decided on what to do about her predicament -the only thing that made her life on the ship more difficult than it should be-, she made her way to the shower; her mood lifted by the thought that from tomorrow onwards, life on board would be perfect.

The rest of her free afternoon, Evie spent on her bunk, as she finished reading the book she’d found on her pillow a couple of days earlier. The title, “Captain Blood”, had made her chuckle, because, for all his severe scowls and silences, Barnes had shown over the days they’d spent in each other’s presence, to have a subtle, but wicked and sometimes harsh sense of humour. Which was how she knew the book had been a gift from him.

Although the title would suggest otherwise, the book itself had turned out to be a pleasant surprise, and she’d read it with relish.

Just as she closed it for the last time, happy with the ending, she noticed that her dinner shift would start soon, so she got up and stretched her muscles a bit before using the toilet and making herself presentable again. After she’d put on her kitchen uniform, she made her way to the galley, and greeted Carlos and Markus before she started prepping her workstation.

—

Dizzy from exhaustion, Evie tumbled into her bed at eleven-fifty-two p.m. that night. 

She’d allowed herself to be persuaded by Carlos and Markus, and a few of the crew still present in the dining room, to stay a bit longer and have (non-alcoholic) drinks with them in the rec room -as it was her day off the next day, and she could sleep in, she had agreed to come with- while they tried to teach her -Flynn- the ins and outs of poker; a game which was completely lost on her because of her inability to keep a straight face. To the hilarity of the men, she managed to lose all her chips within fifteen minutes after the start of each game. Thankfully, they never played for money, or she would have been even more broke than she already was.

Halfway through the fourth game she had started to feel the fatigue of a long day of hard work creep up on her, and when she almost hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open anymore, she’d decided to call it a day. It wasn’t as if she was still in the game anyway, having already lost the last of her poker chips.

She’d stumbled a bit when she’d stood up, tipping over her chair, and she had assured her laughing fellow crew mates that she was alright, just tired, and that she’d make it to her bunk just fine after they inquired if she needed any help getting back to her cabin.

She _had _located her bunk just fine... Sort of. 

Weirdly enough, she found herself falling onto her mattress completely ready for bed without any recollection of having brushed her teeth, or having changed into her night shirt -a t-shirt that was huge on her, and had belonged to Barnes, but which she’d confiscated early on in their travels together when she’d needed something to sleep in-; which she definitely had, going by the comfy shirt that covered her body, and the lack of trousers and binder, _and_ the minty taste in her mouth.

As she drifted off, the whole thing struck her as strange, but the pull of oblivion was too strong to ponder on it any longer, and within seconds she was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked, let me know. Both Kudos and/or Comments are very much appreciated.
> 
> Cheers! :)
> 
> PS. Advance warning for the next chapter. Events described may be triggering for some people. More detailed warnings will accompany the coming update.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go south...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my peepz,
> 
> Here's a little something... 
> 
> XO
> 
> Trigger Warning: attempted rape, assault, fear, panic, grief.

**Chapter 8**

Evie fought her way out of an oppressive exhaustion which felt unnatural and threatened to pull her back each time she gained some ground towards wakefulness. 

When she finally managed to open her eyes to small slits, there was nothing but darkness and confusion. 

She felt paralysed somehow.

_Why can’t I move? What’s happening?!_

As her world came more into focus -as much as it could in pitch black darkness-, she became aware of an enormous weight pressing her into her mattress, making it difficult for her to breathe as she lay on her tummy; her face half buried in her pillow.

A waft of rancid, alcohol infested breath found its way into her nose, and she almost gagged, as someone breathed heavily in her ear while pulling up her shirt, exposing her boxer clad bum.

‘Such a tight ass.’ A voice rasped when a large hand grabbed her right arse cheek and squeezed, hard. ‘Gonna feel so good fuckin’ that.’

Evie let out an alarmed sound and tried to fight against the restraining hold of her captor, recognising the voice immediately. 

_Markus_.

Her struggles were weak and uncoordinated, and after every squirm it felt as if she needed to sluggishly wade through a haze of jello-filled oxygen before she could make another movement. The connection between her brain and her body seemed faulty somehow. It fueled her panic.

He kept her restrained easily; her slender frame no match for his bulk and weight.

‘Hey, yer not supposed to be awake.’ He sounded surprised. ‘I gave ya ‘nough to knock ya out for at least six hours. Hasn’t even been thirty minutes.’ Annoyance coloured his tone, ‘Fuckin’ shit drugs.’

_He drugged me?! _The realisation made her try and struggle even more, no matter how futile her attempts at freeing herself were. 

Her mutation must have rid her body of the toxin faster than it usually took to pass through a person, allowing her to wake up sooner than expected. She still felt very woozy, though.

A big hand closed around her neck from behind and exerted pressure, pushing her face further into the pillow, and coming close to cutting off her oxygen; which fed the frantic panic that had flooded her system. She clawed at the sheets, trying to find something, _anything_, to use as a weapon against the large man laying on top of her.

‘Ya _ever_ breathe a word ’bout this ta anyone, boy, I’ll _kill_ ya. _And_ that loser brother of yers.’ Markus hissed next to her ear as he put more of his weight onto her, and pulled down her boxer briefs. ‘Now hold still and don’t make a sound.’ He tightened his fingers on her neck to stress his words.

Evie helplessly keened into her pillow when she felt the stuffy air of the cabin against the bare skin of her behind. She heard Markus unbuckle his belt and zip open his trousers. When a thick slab of hot meat slapped onto her bum cheek, impotent tears started to seep from her eyes into the pillowcase.

_No no no no no. This can’t be happening..._ Her mind fought against the reality of the situation; denial coursing through her veins.

_Someone, please help me..._

She knew her mental screams and verbal squeaks, for as far as she was able to produce any against her pillow, were futile, and help wouldn’t come. Barnes never came to the cabin at night, and the other crew quarters were too far away for anyone to hear the weak cries of distress that escaped her. Her bedding smothered them too much to be heard outside the cabin.

She was completely and utterly _alone_. And there was no way she would be able to fight Markus off. He was too big and heavy. She was too small, and too weak.

Her body suddenly, instinctively, went slack under the large man when it registered how he lined his hard dick up with the entrance to her bum; relaxing as well as it could under the circumstances to prevent too much damage.

‘That’s it. Good boy.’ He panted as he spit into his hand and rubbed the “lube” over the head of his penis. Then he increased the pressure on her body by pushing his hips forward. ‘We’re gonna have so much fun.’

Evie cried out her horror into her pillow; adrenaline and fear pumping their way through her veins as she actively tried to dissociate herself from the situation.

Then the pressure suddenly disappeared at the same time as the oppressive weight lifted from her back; the tight grip on her neck was ripped away.

Before she even had the chance to lift her head to see what had happened, she heard a loud bang and a grunt, as if something, or someone, got thrown against the wall of the cabin; the grunt was quickly followed by a sharp, wet, cracking sound. And then, complete silence.

By the time she turned her heavy head to the side while pulling sweet, sweet oxygen into her heaving lungs, her body feeling strangely numb and strengthless after everything that had happened -also a consequence of the residual drugs in her system, she reckoned-, someone had closed the door to the hallway, and flipped on the overhead light. 

The first thing she saw was a dark shadow crouched over the body of her assailant, quickly closing the man’s trousers and buckling his belt. Markus’ unseeing eyes stared up to the ceiling, and his neck and head lay in an unnatural angle in relation to his body.

_‘James?’_ Evie whispered incredulously when she saw familiar broad shoulders and long, dark brown hair; her voice trembled, and she was almost afraid to believe what her eyes were telling her. _Is he really here? Is it over?_

The man looked up at her when she said his name.

Somehow, the fierceness of his gaze did not scare her. It made her feel safe. The furious, barely restrained violence now blazing inside those previously calculating and cruel dark blue eyes would have made the Evie of two weeks earlier recoil in fear, but in that moment she instinctively _knew_, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this... person -who was _not _the Bucky Barnes of old, _nor _was he the Hydra programmed Winter Soldier- in front of her wouldn’t hurt her. _Ever_.

In her mind, she’d already called this incarnation James a couple of times, and the name had just slipped out as an incredible relief had flooded her and brought tears to her eyes; unable as she was to suppress the emotional upheaval that wreaked havoc inside her.

James stood from his crouch, and silently leaned over her to help her re-dress.

In spite of his furious expression and harsh gaze, his hands were gentle as he pulled her underwear back up over her behind, and her sleep shirt back down over her hips, before covering her carefully with the thin duvet that had been shoved to the floor somewhere during her assault.

His glove covered left hand reached out to her head, hesitated for a moment, and then, ever so gently and lightly, caressed her hair in an attempt at comfort. It lasted only a second before he stepped back and hoisted Markus’ body over his shoulder; easily carrying the man’s bulk.

‘Stay here. Don’t go anywhere.’ He said, his voice quiet, but not leaving any leeway for protest. 

And then he was gone.

As if she would have the energy to go anywhere. She could still feel the pull of drug-induced sleep chipping away at the edges of her consciousness. Slowly, she allowed the exhaustion she felt, combined with the residual drugs in her system, to lead her back to the land of dreams. She welcomed the drug assisted oblivion as she fought to push away the memory of the sickening crunch of bones when James had ended Markus’ life, and stubbornly ignored the horrid memories of the event leading up to that moment.

—

She had no idea how long it had been when she suddenly startled awake with a cry. Someone shook her gently, and she recoiled from the hand as her eyes flew open. Blinking, she groggily looked up at Barnes... James? Whomever he was now.

‘Whah?’

‘Come, you have to shower.’ He said in a no-nonsense tone while he unceremoniously started to strip her bed while she was still in it; all compassion gone in favour of getting the job done. Apparently, he was back into soldier-mode.

‘What time is it?’ She croaked as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bunk; the awful memories slowly flowing back into her consciousness. She shivered in revulsion.

‘A little after one a.m.’ Barnes helped her stand, and finished stripping the sheets from her mattress and the covers from her duvet and pillow. Then he also completely stripped his own bed, located above hers. 

Had it only been just over an hour since she’d stumbled into her bed? Not even an hour since the assault? It seemed so much longer. Her head still felt fuzzy, though. So, maybe it hadn’t been as long as it felt.

All of the bedding went into the laundry bag they had been provided with when they came aboard.

‘Coming morning, you will wake up early, and you’ll go to the laundry room and put everything inside this bag into the washing machine and wash it. Including the laundry bag.’ Barnes said. ‘It will take about two hours, so you can go back to your bunk and sleep some more. Then, when the laundry is done, you’ll go back to the laundry room, put it all into the dryer, and wait until it’s finished while you read a book, acting as if you don’t have a care in the world, and then you will take it all back to the cabin, where you’ll fold it and put it away neatly before doing whatever you planned on doing during your day off. Maybe complain a bit to crew members you meet about your big brother making you do laundry on your day off, like any teenager would.’

‘Okay.’ She said in a small voice. She knew what he was doing. Destroying evidence. Making sure that no suspicious eyes would ever look their way. ‘What did you do with...’ 

‘He got drunk and had an accident when he tried to get to his secret stash of bourbon. Slipped on a wet patch and fell down from a cargo container. Broke his neck when he hit the deck.’ The description sounded matter of fact and emotionless.

‘Oh.’ She shivered at his dismissive tone. So, he’d made it look like an accident. ‘But can’t we tell them what happened? What he... tried to do?’ Evie shivered in revulsion when she remembered the sickening feel of his... member trying to force its way inside her. ‘Tell them that his death was an accident? That you found him doing... that to me, and that you accidentally killed him?’

‘No. People won’t believe you when they find out the truth about us. You an’ me are here under false pretenses, carrying false passports.’ He stood very close when he finally looked her in the eyes again. ‘And his death _wasn’t_ an accident.’ His voice roughened as rage flared up in his gaze; making it clear to her that he had _chosen_ to kill the man when it would have been just as easy to knock him out. Somehow, this knowledge didn’t affect her as much as it should. She started to wonder if something really _was_ wrong with her moral compass, when he spoke again. ‘People like him do _not_ deserve to live.’

‘People like _him_?’

‘Pedophiles and rapists, preying on the helpless, and destroying their victims’ lives with their depraved acts and violations. The world is better off without those people... without _him_.’ The venom in his voice was unmistakeable as his expression distorted into one of contemptuous abhorrence.

However much Evie always objected to violence, she couldn’t really disagree with his sentiment; not after what she’d just been through. No matter if the monster had been stopped before causing too much physical and psychological damage, Evie still felt violated to the depths of her soul; her trust in her fellow crew mates had been completely crushed. Because, although she’d had her reservations towards Markus and his unwelcome touches, she would have _never_ thought that he would go as far as he had gone. Never expected something so monstrous from the jovial man. And if _he_ could turn on her like that, who was to say that he’d been the only rapist on board? For all she knew, there were more monsters on the ship and she -Flynn- wasn’t safe from other potential attackers.

‘Oh.’ She said quietly, shivering at the thought of anyone else coming after her. She’d have to be more vigilant from then on. 

Barnes looked away from her, and raised his hand to pull open the door of the wardrobe next to them; taking out a clean set of clothes for himself, and a fresh pair of underwear and a shirt to sleep in for her. Evie observed how the clothes he’d selected for himself were the exact copy of the clothes he was already wearing; probably to avoid questions about a sudden wardrobe change when he started on his second shift of the night. 

_Smart._

She only noticed that she’d been zoning out when he gently shook her shoulder to get her attention. Startled, she expelled a shocked breath at the unexpected touch. Her teeth started chattering, and shivers ran up and down her spine as she seemed to be having trouble regulating her body temperature.

Until only seconds before it had felt as if she’d been watching everything happen, both inside and outside herself, through a kind of fuzzy barrier, but then, like a lightning strike and with incredible clarity, everything had come into focus, and it hit her all at once. Evie gasped, trying to gulp in air as fast as she could when it suddenly felt like she was suffocating on the horrific things she had felt and seen. It looked like the drugs had completely left her system; no longer softening the ragged and sharp edges of her shattered emotions. Her sight blurred from tears, and she completely lost herself in the expulsion of her fear and her relief. Imploding where she stood, and bawling her eyes out.

Some time later, she found herself again. 

On the floor.

In a certain sergeant’s arms.

As she sat sideways on his lap.

Her face buried against the side of his neck so no sound would escape the cabin and betray them.

His bionic hand gently cradling her head.

It felt strangely familiar.

Someone else had held her like that not too long ago.

Suddenly, in the lingering haze of a cathartic cry, the similarities struck her as hilarious, and she snorted her amusement against the throat her face was pressed up against. 

A shiver ran through the body beneath her.

‘Msorry.’ She mumbled apologetically; making no move to untangle herself, loathe to leave the comfy, warm, and safe environment she found herself in. 

‘What’s funny?’ The quiet voice rumbled through the chest underneath her ear.

‘Found myself in this exact same position a couple of weeks ago. Only I think I drooled all over _him_ in my sleep, instead of smearing snot and tears everywhere during a mental breakdown.’

His body tensed up slightly.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. You two have eerily similar techniques when it comes to comforting someone, especially taking into account that you and the good captain haven’t been in touch for a _very_ long time.’ More like an entire lifetime.

She couldn’t help but notice that when he discovered she was talking about Steve, his suddenly rigid posture relaxed.

‘Taught that punk everything he knows.’ Did she detect an undercurrent of amused pride in his deadpan voice?

‘Heard you were quite the ladies-man back then.’ She teased; ready to grab onto anything to distract her from the events of the past hours.

Evie felt an evasive hum pass through his body before he gently untangled himself from her, and helped her stand.

‘It’s time for you to shower, and try and get a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow is going to be tough.’ He said as he stood up and handed her her shower stuff and her towel and clean sleep shirt and boxers.

_Alright, sharing time is over, I guess..._ He was right, though. She’d have to be on top of her game when morning came around.

Nodding at him, she walked to the door and opened it. Before she walked through, she turned back to him.

‘James?’ The tremble in her voice betrayed her frayed nerves more than anything.

When he looked at her, but said nothing, she took it as a prompt to keep going.

'How did you know that I needed help?'

He squirmed a bit under her gaze, and rubbed his neck as he looked away.

'I, uh, always check on you after a night shift.'

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. _really? _

'Oh.' He must have always waited until she'd been asleep, or just listened at the door if she was still awake, because she'd _never _noticed a thing. Though it might be a bit creepy, it also struck her as weirdly... caring. The man standing in front of her had so much violence and cold calculation inside him, and he could have just callously left her to her own devises, but he apparently still checked if she was doing okay during the night. Which she was sure had saved her life on this night. ‘_Thank_ you.’ She said, laying every ounce of gratitude she felt towards him in those two words.

For a second, he seemed uncomfortable under her grateful gaze, but then he nodded and turned away from her, pulling clean bedding from their shared wardrobe and starting to make his bed.

Taking this as her dismissal, Evie quickly made her way to the wet-room, where she gave herself permission to sit under the jet of the shower for a while, and silently cry some more as the water washed her tears away. 

Sometimes, a person just needed to be alone to cry away the _really_ deep hurts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... that was quite the write... 
> 
> Are you still here?
> 
> Yes?
> 
> Well, you know the drill by now, I think. Comments and Kudos feed the Muse! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading and until next time! 
> 
> XO


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there! 
> 
> Here I am AGAIN!
> 
> With a two part Easter gift. 
> 
> Here's part one.
> 
> Happy Reading! And Happy (X-rated ;P ) Easter! 
> 
> XO

**Chapter 9**

Somewhere between La Guaira, Venezuela, and Suape, Brazil, Monday, 21 April 2014, 8:22 p.m.

When the body of Markus Grady had been discovered near the bow of the ship, after being reported missing by the head chef when he hadn’t shown up for work two shifts in a row, the ship had been held by the La Guaira port authorities until the inquiry into his death had been concluded.

After careful consideration of all the evidence on the ship, and the conclusions of the detailed toxicology report, which told an intricate story of substance abuse, the death of Markus Grady was judged an unfortunate accident, and the ship had been once again released to its captain and crew.

After a short, improvised ceremony, where the crew were given the chance to say goodbye to their mate, Markus Grady’s body had been turned over to the American government to be repatriated to US soil and his only surviving brother.

With a delay of almost two days, the Eugen Maersk had set off from La Guaira just after noon on the twenty-first of April.

Eight hours later, the crew and their cargo were well on their way to the port of Suape, Brazil, pushing the ship’s engines to the max to make up for lost time.

Evie settled onto her bed with a book after she’d returned from taking a very quick shower to rinse off the sweaty day. Her dinner shift had ended twenty minutes earlier, and head chef Carlos had invited her to another game of poker, but she didn’t feel like hanging around the rec room for the rest of her evening. 

The atmosphere on the ship was despondent after Markus’ death, and the guilt she felt from deceiving the crew about her identity had tripled with the added burden of her knowledge about what had really happened to him. It didn’t matter that she knew from painful personal experience that the man had been a lecherous predator, she still couldn’t help but feel responsible for the gloomy mood that plagued the crew.

Barnes and she had gone through the motions of their respective day off, and had then once again returned to working their shifts; keeping to their personal schedules over the past two days, and exhibiting the same behaviours they always did. Everything to not draw any attention to themselves. And it had worked.

They were home free, and if her conscience hadn’t been troubling her so much, Evie would have felt relieved that she and Barnes hadn’t ended up rotting in a South American jail somewhere. 

If she had thought she would see Barnes more often when he switched from night shifts to day shifts, she soon found that she had been mistaken. She saw him just as much -or as little- as when he’d worked night shifts; which meant she observed him from the galley during meals, and sometimes saw him do maintenance work on deck during her hours off. And that was it.

His bed had looked slept in when she’d checked in the morning, which meant that he had come in for a nap some time during the night, but he’d left before her alarm went off at five-thirty. She had no idea how he was able to keep up the gruelling pace of hard work and hardly any sleep he’d set for himself. It must have been hell for him, existing on the edge of exhaustion all the time.

Sighing, she refocused her attention on her book when she caught her mind wandering to her big and surly, but incredibly handsome and mostly absent room mate. She couldn’t deny that she found him very attractive, but, as he was gay, completely in Love -yes, with a capital L- with Steve Rogers, no matter how much he had denied it, she knew the truth, and definitely suffering from PTSD and no doubt other brainwashing related psychological issues, she knew, and accepted, nothing would ever come from it. Maybe one day, when he’d worked through all his trauma, they could try and be friends -at the moment, they were acquaintances at best-. And she was fine with that. 

If only her treacherous body would get the message. It was still hung up on the feeling of his strong arms around her as he comforted her; he’d made her feel so safe, cherished almost. In spite of the horrific events of two days earlier, her body reacted to the memory of the way his powerful body had cradled hers. So strong, and, in spite of the atrocious violence of his past, so gentle. Subconsciously she licked her lips. And immediately stopped when she noticed the thirsty action.

_Shite. Fuckin’ hormones! _She _really_ needed to get laid if she couldn’t even control her body’s reactions towards her gay, traumatised... friend? acquaintance? travel buddy? _Ugh._

Shaking her head and grumbling an expletive under her breath when she caught her mind wandering once again, she thumped herself on the forehead with her book a couple of times.

‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ on a biscuit! Focus, Eves... Focus!’ _And _**_not_**_ on Barnes! _

_James! _

_Whatever! Urgh..._

Forcing herself to start reading again, it thankfully didn’t take long for her to lose herself in the story.

All the way up until someone knocked on the door of the cabin, not five minutes later.

Frowning, Evie put the book down and wondered if she’d heard it right.

Nobody had ever knocked on the door before; the cabin too far out of the way for any crew members to make the effort to come by.

There it was again. A soft, but insistent knock.

_The hell?_

‘Who is it?’ She called out as she got up.

‘Me.’ Came the muffled voice of her room mate through the door.

After unlocking the door -ever since the assault, she locked it religiously, where before she hadn’t even bothered-, she pulled it open.

‘Why don’t you just come in, then. You do have a key, don’t y-’

When her eyes fell on him, she couldn’t hold back a laugh. She tried to cover it up by raising a hand to her mouth and pretending to cough. 

_Ah, no wonder he wouldn’t come in._

‘What on earth happened to you?’ She snickered from behind her hand.

Sergeant Barnes did not look amused. He scowled at her from a face and beard streaked with a black oily substance; the long hair on his head sticking out in some places, and plastered to his skull in others. His dark clothes didn’t show the damage the gooey oil had done, but both his shirt and his trousers looked wet.

‘Mishap in the engine room.’ He said through clenched teeth. ‘Can you hand me a towel and my soap?’

Still snickering, Evie went to the wardrobe and pulled out the requested things, accompanied by a clean pair of boxer briefs, trousers, and a shirt.

The scowl on his face had not lessened when she returned and handed him his things. Without a word, he stomped off towards the wet-room.

‘Do try and rinse out your dirty clothes a bit before you put them into the washing machine. I don’t think the rest of the crew would like it if their own clothes came back from laundry with half the oil reserves in the world on them.’ She called after him with a laugh in her voice.

Her only answer was the slamming of the shower room door.

Shaking her head and chuckling at the surly behaviour of her unexpected source of amusement for the night, Evie closed the door, locked it, and resumed reading her book.

—

Over an hour later, just as she was dozing off, the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by a quick opening and closing of the door, startled her awake.

‘Hey, it’s me.’ Her room mate identified himself quietly into the darkness when he heard her sharp intake of breath.

‘Oh... hi.’ She mumbled from where her head had been half buried in her pillow. ‘You gonna sleep?’

He hummed his agreement as she listened to him pulling his shirt over his head and hanging it on one of the clothing hooks on the wall. His trousers followed suit.

The fragrance of his soap floated towards her through the stuffy air of the dark cabin, overlaying a dark, muskier scent which she recognised as undeniably his. She’d noticed it before, when he’d held her close to him two days earlier.

She almost groaned when her body immediately reacted to it. Thankfully, she caught herself in time.

_Fuck... Fuck. Fuck. What is wrong with me?!_

Turning onto her other side, facing the wall, Evie tried to ignore the sudden explosion of nerves inside her tummy, and the tightening in her lower abdomen, followed by a low, simmering heat.

_Jesus Christ, calm down, will ya?!_

Her body had never reacted like this to anyone. Oh, she’d had her share of boyfriends, and even a pretty serious relationship that had lasted almost three years during her early twenties, but the way her body reacted to Barnes’ presence almost felt alien to her... Unsettling, to say the least.

‘G’night.’ She murmured when he climbed up to the bunk above hers.

‘Night.’

—

Although it had taken her body some time to settle down again, eventually she’d fallen asleep listening to the deep, slow breaths of the man lightly snoring in the bunk above.

A few hours later, she startled awake from a nightmare, sweat beading on her nose and forehead; not only from the fear that coursed through her veins, but also because the temperature inside the cabin had risen considerably with two people occupying it. The weather outside had become increasingly hot as they neared the Equator and the whole ship felt stuffy; the only relief to be found was out on deck, in the shadow of the bridge as a sea breeze played around the people seeking solace from the humid stuffiness below decks.

Over her head, she heard a soft sound of distress; a large body tossing and turning in the throes of a nightmare. Looked like she wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping that night.

The body above her shot up with a cry, followed by harsh breathing, before the creak of the bed betrayed that he’d settled down again. She heard the scratch of hands rubbing up and down a bearded face.

‘You awake?’ She asked quietly into the darkness. 

No answer came.

As the silence wore on, she thought that he’d maybe fallen right back asleep.

‘Yeah.’ His raspy voice broke through the night, a raw edge to it, just as she’d decided to try and go back to sleep again herself. It sounded so unsettled and forlorn that she couldn’t let it go. 

Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of her bunk and stood.

In the pitch black darkness, she felt for the narrow ladder at the foot of the bed.

‘I’m coming up, so, please, don’t kill me.’ She said as she scrambled up and over the raised edge of his bunk.

‘What are you doing?’ He asked, still sounding slightly hoarse when she slid between his back and the wall, and wrapped her arms around his bare, broad shoulders, her fingers only just touching in front of his chest, as she pulled him into her. Or pulled herself into him, because he didn’t budge under her feeble attempt at a hug.

What she lacked in strength, she more than made up for in tenacity, though.

‘I had a fuckin’ horrible nightmare, and I need a hug.’ She said simply, a tremble creeping into her voice. Instinctively she knew that if she mentioned her urge to comfort him after his own nightmare, which she was sure had been infinitely scarier and more unsettling than hers would ever be, he’d push her away.

Her hunch turned out to be the right one, because after hearing her request he turned his body towards her almost immediately; taking her into his arms and pulling her into him in a way that betrayed to her his own need for consolation. It made her wonder how long it had been since he’d experienced any form of human contact that hadn’t ended in pain; in violence, torture, or death.

Sliding her arms underneath his, and folding them around his back, her hands resting on his spine, she held onto him as tightly as she could. Hoping that it would be enough to give him solace for at least a couple of hours that night.

‘Was it about him?’ He asked quietly.

‘What?’ She asked, confused.

‘The nightmare. Was it about... _him_?’

She shivered when his words brought back her own night terror.

‘Yeah.’ Was all she said; pushing away the memory as well as she could.

She hadn’t thought it possible, but his arms tightened around her even more as he curled his body around her, as if trying to shield her from the world.

‘And yours?’ She murmured into the skin that stretched over his clavicle, desperately trying to ignore the fresh, but incredibly potent, musky scent which had overtaken the fragrance of his soap as he slept, and which caused a flurry of heat to dance through her tummy.

_Not the fuckin’ time, Eves! Ugh! Stupid body._

He froze when her question registered in his mind, and he stopped breathing.

Immediately, she realised her mistake and loosened her hold on him to show him that he could move away at any moment. She slowly rubbed his back, and attempted to salvage what she could.

‘Hey, it’s okay to not be okay.’ She mumbled next to his ear. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I’m sorry for pushing you.’ Repeating a mantra of ‘_It’s alright_’ and keeping up her comforting strokes over his back, she hoped that whatever she was doing would help. 

Finally, just when she decided that returning to her own bunk would be a sensible thing to do, as he clearly wasn’t in the right state of mind to accept any form of comfort yet, and she started to let go of him completely, his body relaxed minutely, and he sucked in a breath. And then another. And another. And before she realised what was happening, he’d buried his face into her neck, breathing harshly, and clinging onto her as if she was the only thing standing between him and a violent drowning in the horrific memories resurfacing in his mind.

It took him some time to regain a semblance of calm; much longer than it had taken him to rein in his emotions at Becca’s house, but, just like at Becca’s house, there weren’t any tears as he broke down, nothing wetting the collar of her t-shirt. There was no crying. Just these harsh, smothered breaths.

Her heart bled for him. For everything he’d gone through, the dehumanisation, the pain, the humiliations. For all the wretched years with no hope. For his inability to communicate his suffering; incapacitated by decades of torture and cruelty forced upon him by Hydra’s monstrous butchers, unscrupulous scientists, and ambitious politicians without a conscience who only saw the instrument, the Fist of Hydra; to be used and abused for their own, self-centred, horrific goals. 

Never allowed to feel, to express emotion. Never allowed to be human. Evie couldn’t even begin to fathom the things they’d done to him to make him into the soulless killing machine she’d met on the fateful day she blundered her way into a war on the streets of Washington D.C.

Slowly, but surely, the harsh, gasping breaths slowed down into something more akin panting, and Barnes’ strangle-hold on her body relaxed slightly.

Only when he moved and his sweat covered lower abdomen slickly slid against hers where her t-shirt had ridden up, did she notice how very hot she was. The stifling air inside the cabin felt almost cool against the skin that had been pressed up against Barnes before. He also felt hot to the touch.

_Sheesh... Does he have a fever or something?_

Or did he just burn hotter than most people, because of his enhancements?

The sensation of the light scratch of his beard and the caress of his breath against the sensitive skin of her throat broke through the haze of her busy, theorising mind, and she shivered; goosebumps breaking out all over her body. The still slightly simmering embers of heat in her core flared up.

Barnes breathed in deeply, as if taking in the scent of her skin, and then turned his head, his nose rubbing along her jaw.

_What’s he doing?! _Her inner voice asked in a high pitch in the same moment that her whole body melted into a puddle of warm goo and relaxed under the unexpected caress of his bionic hand as it slid under her shirt, up her flank, and to her ribs to come to a stop just below her breast.

She gasped when his teeth scraped across her throat. A sharp bite, followed by a hot lick to alleviate the sting, caused her to cry out in surprise, and all the heat inside her body to pool between her legs, where it pulsed and fluttered.

_What the fuck?! What the ffffffffffff... Oh... Fuuuuuuuuck_

His mouth crashed to hers as he rolled her underneath him, one of his muscled thighs pushing between hers in the same movement, grinding against her most sensitive of places as he almost hesitantly rubbed his swiftly hardening cock against the softness of her belly.

_‘Please.’ _The desperate plea against her lips, combined with the way his metal thumb caressed the underside of her breast, and then ghosted over her nipple, blew all the reasons thrown up by the still functioning -but rapidly deteriorating- rational part of her brain on why continuing down the road they were on would be a very bad idea, completely out of the water. _‘Please.’_ He repeated the plea with such utter desolation in his hoarse voice, that tears sprung to Evie’s eyes.

This was a man so desperate for connection after a decades long life devoid of any compassion and wrought with violence, so desperate for human touch that didn’t lead to pain and suffering, so _starving_ for the relief it would bring him, that he _begged_ her for it. 

He could have taken what he wanted and she wouldn’t have been able to stop him, but instead, he gave her a choice. In spite of all the violence forced upon him in his past, he asked for her consent. And that told her all she needed to know about him. It told her how much of Bucky Barnes had survived on the edges of the wasteland that was the Winter Soldier programming. How strong the man had been, and still was, mentally, to hold on to the most important parts of himself for such an incredibly long time.

Her decision made -more or less rationally, although the way her body sang with need may have had something to do with it, too-, she kissed him back with all the passion and compassion she felt for him, and willingly, enthusiastically, parted her lips when his tongue lightly pressed against the seam of her mouth.

What followed were some of the most carnal, intense, passionate, and confusing moments of her life up until then. 

Slowly, James’ lips traveled from her mouth to her jaw, and then he kissed and nipped his way down the column of her throat. Before she could catch her breath, he had latched onto one of her nipples through the cloth of her shirt, using its corseness against the pebbled skin to elicit the most exquisite sensations; pleasure shooting from her nipple straight to her core as the heat of his mouth enveloped a large part of her small breast. The response of her body was immediate; her hands came up to bury themselves in his long hair, and she arched her back to push her pelvis up against his thigh more firmly, increasing the friction where she needed it most.

He suddenly moved his leg away from her heat, and grabbed her thighs in his hands, pushing them wide and settling his hips in the cradle between her legs.

Evie moaned when he thrust his hardness against her, rubbing along her still clothed labia, and managing to hit her just right; pleasure fanning out from her clit, and settling deep inside her. In spite of the events two days earlier, which had left her mentally reeling and unbalanced, she _wanted_ this. So badly. She wanted the man hovering above her. So very, very much.

Then his hand was between her legs, fingers sliding under the hem of her boxers, and towards where she wanted him most as he dipped a finger between the swollen petals of her sex; finding it wet and hot and ready. Evie writhed against his hand, desperate for more pressure. 

He breathed out a soft hiss when he felt her slick readiness, pulling his hand back until suddenly there was a ripping sound and he tore away the crotch of her boxers; shredded it as if it had been made from paper. Evie didn’t have much time to marvel at the feat, or to mourn the loss of a much needed piece of clothing, because she heard the rustling of his own boxers as he pushed them down to free his cock, and then he thrust inside her. Hard.

A startled cry, which turned into a low groan, fell from her parted lips when he unexpectedly stretched her beyond the width and depth she was used to. She felt a twinge deep inside her when he bottomed out and then pulled back, only to thrust back just as deep and hard. Gasps tore from her throat as she scrambled to keep up with the pace he set. He’d covered her body with his, holding her right thigh up and spread wide with his metal hand while he kept the bulk of his weight off of her by leaning on his right forearm, placed above her head; his forehead pressed into the pillow, and his breaths rasped next to her ear as his body worked itself inside her, around her, muscles tightening and relaxing in fast, rhythmic contractions. 

Overwhelmed by the intensity of their coupling, Evie’s hands clawed at the sheets as she lost herself in the unrelenting push and pull, a soft whine escaping her when he hit something inside her that made her see stars. In a good way. A _very _good way.

Pulled along into the blazing vortex of his fire, urgent and all-consuming, she hooked her left leg around James’ waist and wrapped her arms around his torso, fingers digging into the flexing muscles of his back.

Inside her, pressure built and built as small sounds of passion were forced past her parted lips in time with his thrusts. She could feel how the pleasure condensed in her core, ready to crest on a wave of release.

Evie hadn’t thought it possible, but, when James suddenly let go of her thigh, which she then instinctively wrapped around his rolling hips, feet locking together, and his arms both slid around her back to pull her flush against him and hold her tightly, the weight of his sweat slicked body pressing into her, his thrusts increased in speed and depth; his pelvis bumping and grinding against her clit on each forward motion. 

The sudden changes in pace and position were enough to send her over the precipice. The incredible pleasure pulsing through her in powerful, rippling waves stole away her breath, and caused her cry of release to be completely soundless. Her inner walls clamped down like a vice on the man fucking her like there was no tomorrow, milking him in an undulating flow of catch and release until his hips stuttered in their punishing rhythm and he let out a low, keening sound. He pushed into her so deep it caused another wave of tightly coiled pleasure to roll through her. Then he thrust one last time, feeling to Evie as if he tried to bury himself even deeper than before while he shuddered and rode out his own climax; the heat of it blooming tangible inside her core.

Silence reigned in their cabin, only broken by their panting as they tried to catch their breaths. James’ body lay heavily over hers, but she didn’t mind. His still hard cock twitched intermittently deep inside her, rubbing and pushing gently against her cervix, and eliciting sparks of residual pleasure to lap languidly through her lower body. Unable to suppress a shiver, she moaned quietly in response to the delicious, delicate ripples that flowed through her veins like warm honey.

Above her, James’ body went rigid.

Dazed from receiving the most satisfying fuck of her life, Evie noticed too late that something was terribly wrong. By then, he’d all but recoiled from her, jumped down from the high bunk, grabbed his clothes from the hook on the wall and his boots from the floor, and slammed the door of the cabin behind him on his way out, leaving her alone in the pitch black darkness.

The last she saw of him as she turned her head to look after him with wide, uncomprehending eyes, was the back of his head in the illuminated hallway just before the door fell closed. Then, darkness fell over their shared cubby hole once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... 
> 
> Comment, Kudos, whatever floats your boat!
> 
> ON TO PART TWO!
> 
> Rhhhhaahaahahahahaaaaaaa! (Quarantine madness runs high at the moment... sorry not sorry)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, here's part two of the Easter gift! :D
> 
> For people only now falling into the two-part, please go back one chapter and read that first.
> 
> Happy Easter!
> 
> Alons-y!

**Chapter 10**

Letting out a shuddering breath, Evie stared silently into the darkness; completely baffled by the turn of events.

_What the fuck just happened?!_

A cold and dreadful feeling settled heavily in the pit of her stomach.

The emotions swirling through her ranged from flabbergasted exasperation, to intense guilt, to incredible hurt. The latter she knew was completely uncalled for, because _of course_ there had been a big chance of him not reacting well after he came down from his high when the dust of their almost violent coupling settled down, but it still hurt her to see him extract himself from the situation so fast it left her vision spinning.

A tear rolled down from the corner of her eye, over her temple, and into her hairline. She sniffled and rubbed her hands over her suddenly wet eyes.

_Oh, no... What have I done?_

_What did you _**_think_**_ would happen, you daft cow? He is unapproachable and unstable on the best of days, but after a couple of hours sleep plagued by nightmares? His mind must have been on the brink of madness. Of course he ran as fast as he could once he regained his senses. No matter how much you wanted him, _**_you_**_ are the more sane one in this situation. _**_You_**_ should have stopped it before it even began! _She cringed at her own harsh admonishment, and knew her inner voice was absolutely right, but she also knew that she hadn’t been the most stable person herself over the past two-and-a-half days; and the want, the _drive_ inside her body, demanding to be claimed by this particular man, had overruled any and all sound reasoning from the moment she’d crawled into his bunk. 

Heartbroken sobs tore from her chest as she covered her face with her hands, her body curling in on itself in shame and grief. Shame for what she’d done. Knowingly and against her better judgment she’d slept with someone too unstable to make well thought out choices. And an irrational grief had followed the hurt when he’d left her all alone to deal with the aftermath of an event so unexpected and earth-shattering it left her in emotional turmoil.

_How am I ever going to show my face around him again?! _An intense regret flooded her system, and she cried even harder, trying to muffle her sobs by pressing her fist to her mouth.

The hurricane of feelings inside her had her so wrapped up in her own world of misery that she missed the quick opening and closing of the door. Only when a large body slid back into the bunk, and a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her and pulled her face first into a shirt-clad, muscled chest did she realise that James had come back.

The man held her gingerly as she cried out her feelings of shock and guilt, while he whispered a litany of ‘_I’m sorry_’s against the crown of her head. 

It took a while for his words to click inside her mind.

_Wait... What?_

‘What?’ She hoarsely asked in a shaking, surprised voice, blinking against the burning tears in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ His tone was full of the same regret and pain she felt. ‘I should have never...’ Taking in a deep breath, he continued after his hesitation. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you to... I should have _never_ done that to you. Not after... after what happened a couple of days ago. I’m _so_ sorry.’ He huffed out a self-loathing growl. ‘I took and I took, without thinking of you, without even _considering_ what it would do to _you_. I’m a _monster_, and I hurt and destroy everyone and everything around me. _Everything._’ His body shuddered against hers, unable to hide from her the revulsion he felt towards himself. 

Another sob forced its way out of her throat, and she realised she was crying again; anger and sadness about his skewed view on himself and the world, and rage at the people who were responsible for it, warring inside of her for domination. She couldn’t seem to keep her emotions in check anymore.

_Fuckin’ hell, I’m a mess... _

_We both are..._

James pulled her up until their faces were at the same height while their heads rested on the pillow. Evie could feel his breath on her wet cheeks. He cradled her face in his hands, and rubbed her tears away with his thumbs before he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his beard tickling the tip of her nose.

‘_Please._’ He whispered. ‘_Please, don’t cry. I’ll _**_never_**_ do that to you again. I _**_swear_**_. I would shoot myself before I’d ever even _**_think_**_ of doing that again._’

Fighting the urge to cry even harder over the fact that this deeply damaged, hurting and broken man was attempting to comfort _her_ and help _her_ through her emotional upheaval, she rubbed the tears from her cheeks, and laid a hand against his bearded jaw.

At first, she had no idea what to say to him, and the silence continued for a while, but then, suddenly, the words started flowing.

‘Never think that I didn’t consent to what we did.’ A shuddering sigh that felt as if it came all the way from her toes fell from her lips. ‘_I _am the one who should be apologising. _I’m _the one who should have known better. _I’m _the one whose mind is still intact. But for all my reasoning, I allowed myself to be guided and pulled in by my wants and needs instead of halting it all when I should have. I’m so sorry, Ja-’

Her apology was cut short by the man holding her in his arms pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

‘_Never_ apologise to me.’ His voice strong as he stressed the “never”. ‘There is nothing in this world you could do that would ever warrant an apology towards me. _Nothing._’ He sounded so convinced of his own words it made her want to object. Which she did.

‘But-’

‘No.’ He said, immediately interrupting her protest. ‘In the past two weeks, _you_ have been the one who gave me back a large part of my past by bringing me to my childhood home; _you_ have been the one to pull me out of my nightmares as they suffocated me; _and_ you have been the one keeping me sane and focused when I thought I couldn’t go on anymore... _You_ do _not _apologise to _me, _Evie_. _**_Ever_**_.’_

‘But-’ He caught her words with his mouth before she could launch into a protest.

‘_Ever._’ He mumbled against her lips just before pressing another kiss to them. ‘You got me?’

When he pulled back, she swallowed thickly and licked her lips.

‘_Yeah_.’ She whispered into the darkness.

‘Good.’ 

As the silence between them stretched on, comfortable and tranquil this time, Evie once again became aware of his amazing scent, and she could feel how her body reacted to it, and to his nearness.

_Fuckin’ hell, what’s _ ** _wrong_ ** _ with me?! This is _ ** _really _ ** _not the time, nor the place to get horny a-fucking-gain. Calm down, calm down, calm down._

Trying not to shiver and betray herself, she squirmed a little in his arms, which he tightened around her and then relaxed again; his hand seemingly thoughtlessly starting a slow caress over her spine.

_Jesus Fuckin’ Krishna... fuck it all to hell... _she lamented when she had to suppress a moan, feeling how the residual wetness between her legs was flooded by a new wave of hot slick.

The deep rumble of James’ voice pulled her from her thoughts.

‘I can smell you, you know.’

_Say what?!_

‘Whuh?’ She asked eloquently.

He buried his face in the space between her shoulder and her neck and inhaled deeply.

‘I can smell it. Your want and your need. It makes me wanna... It drives me crazy, smelling your desire.’ His breath was hot against her skin, and she shivered involuntarily at feeling it ghost over a sensitive spot on her throat. Combined with the soft scratch of his beard, it caused the glowing embers of lust inside her to flare up again. ‘You smell... _so good._’ His voice did a growly thing towards the end of the sentence, and her core clenched powerfully in response.

‘Oh.’ She breathed quietly, both in acknowledgement to his words, and the sensations he elicited inside her. 

_Well, fuck... and hallelujah for super soldier senses._

She heard him swallow before he spoke.

‘If you want... I can... _help_ you with... it?’ He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the pulse point on her neck before he pulled back and nuzzled her jaw.

_Oh, fuck, yessss... _Well, it appeared that her inner voice had made a complete turn around from hesitance-and-reason to fuck-all-and-do-this-guy.

_What the hell, dude?!_

_Oh, shut up. You want this!_

_Am I really arguing with my own voice of reason?!_

_Yup, now be quiet and enjoy the ride!_

‘Oh...’ Evie shuddered under the onslaught of tickling beard rubbing over the sensitive skin of her neck. 

‘I can do better than I did before.’ James said, his quiet voice somehow even deeper than before as he nuzzled a soft spot beneath her ear.

_No... Not possible!_

‘Yeah?’ She couldn’t help the interested note in her voice.

‘Definitely.’ He murmured, pressing feather light kisses to her cheekbone. ‘Will you let me show you?’

‘_Oh... O... Okay..._’ she whispered, having trouble focusing.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes.’

He hummed approvingly at her assent, and proceeded to push up the hem of her shirt until he could pull it off over her head. He threw it over the edge of the bunk. Her destroyed boxers followed suit. Then he fluidly hopped from the bed to the ground to divest himself of his own clothing; the bunk too narrow for him to safely take off his shirt and trousers without falling off.

Within seconds, he was back, crawling over her. He pressed his lips to hers in a hot, wet kiss; his tongue stroking hers deeply, mimicking the way he’d fucked her earlier.

Instinctively, Evie spread her legs so he could settle his hips between them. She moaned when she felt the hot, hard length of his cock slide through the damp heat between her labia. Apparently, the man had the refractory time of a super soldier. A thought to which her mind answered her with a resounding ‘_duh_’. Tilting her hips, she tried to catch him against her entrance. She was _so _ready for him.

‘Ah-ah.’ He murmured against her lips and lifted his hips away from hers, eliciting a disappointed mewl from her. ‘I told you I was gonna do better.’

‘Huh?’

Slowly, he kissed his way down her throat, and then down her chest; laving both her breasts with his hot, wet tongue, and sucking the nipples deep into his mouth. He took his time building up the heat; each fondle and stroke and suck seemingly designed to stoke up the embers inside her. Making her gasp and pant with each caress and teasing bite.

‘_Please._’ She begged him, voice hoarse, tilting her hips and trying and failing to find friction against his rock-hard abdomen.

‘_Patience_, Doll.’ She could hear the heat and the satisfaction at her enthusiastic responses in his voice before he kissed and nipped his way down her tummy, dipping his tongue into her bellybutton. Scooting further down, he guided her legs over his shoulders.

_What is he... Oh god... ooooohhhhh, fuuuuuck..._

Without much preamble, he licked her slit bottom to top with a flat tongue several times before latching onto the small pearl at the apex of her sex and gently suckling it; having no qualms whatsoever that the mix of her wetness and the remnants of his own release still coated her entrance. 

A loud cry tore from her throat, and he released her briefly from his hot mouth.

‘Try and keep it down, will ya, or our cover will be blown by morning.’ She could hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice before he dove back in with zeal.

_Bastard!_

It was the last conscious thought she had before her brain whited out from the pleasure he elicited with his tongue and his fingers.

Somewhere during the unrelenting onslaught of his mouth on her most sensitive of places, she’d pulled the pillow from under her head and pressed it to her face to muffle her loud vocal reactions to his ministrations, and when he switched the finger of his right hand for two metal fingers of his bionic hand, burying them inside her heat in one thrust and curling them into the spongy soft tissue just inside her vagina, and then groaning into her clit as he lapped at it with the flat of his tongue, mouth completely sealed over the top of her mound, she all but bucked her sex into his face, screaming her pleasure into the pillow, her body almost coming completely free from the bed as the most violent orgasm she ever experienced washed over her like a destructive tsunami wave.

Drifting down from a high beyond anything she was familiar with, she noticed how James still very gently lapped at her while his fingers rode her through the last waves of her climax by slowly thrusting into her, and curling up against her g-spot on their way out in a carefully controlled rhythm, causing violent aftershocks of pleasure to ripple out from her still clenching core.

Only when she went boneless underneath him did he pull away from her, crawling up her body, throwing the pillow to the side, and pressing a filthy wet kiss to her mouth. As she greedily drank him in, stroking his tongue with hers, she tasted and smelled herself on him.

_‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ._’ She moaned against his lips, voice breathless.

He hummed into her mouth.

‘Told ya I could do better.’ 

‘Yeah.’ The hoarseness in her voice made him chuckle.

‘But we’re not done yet.’

Butterflies exploded in her tummy at hearing the darkly sensual promise in his tone.

‘We’re not?’

‘Hmmm.’ He spread her thighs wide with his knees. 

She herself was no help at all, because her bones and her muscles had vacated her body, never to return; or so it felt. Her legs were jello. So were her arms. Useless flops of spaghetti.

‘I... I can’t...’ she didn’t know what exactly she wanted to say, but she was saved from an awkward silence when he interrupted her.

‘Of course you can.’ He said in an infinitely tender and encouraging tone. ‘And you will... Just hold on to me.’ He guided her hands behind his neck and leaned his left forearm next to her head before reaching down with his right hand and guiding himself to press his hard, thick cock against her still tingling vulva, after which he slid his hand under her bottom to lift her and tilt her hips just so; sinking himself a little deeper into her entrance. She thanked the gods for her healing mutation, otherwise she’d be in so much discomfort when morning came around. No matter if everyone thought her a boy; if she came into work walking funny like a woman after an all night, thorough fuck, her cover would truly be blown.

Slowly, so incredibly slowly and gently, James pushed himself past her sensitive entrance; working his width and length into her body with careful, shallow thrusts until he bottomed out.

A hiss escaped him and he held himself motionless.

‘_You feel **so** good._’ He whispered against her lips before kissing her silly and rolling his hips in a slow rhythm.

He kept up the languid, deep thrusts, never faltering, never speeding up, and Evie, who had been sure that she was all done for the night after her final, earth-shattering orgasm, felt how his patience and care paid off when the previously completely unraveled seat of sexual pleasure, situated deep inside her core, started to awaken again; like a coil tightening with each thrust.

‘_Oh._’ She breathed her surprise into James’ mouth; her inner walls squeezing weakly around his cock.

‘Yesss, that’s it, Doll.’ He murmured, keeping his strokes even and slow. ‘Just let it build.’

Within minutes, he’d stoked the embers of pleasure inside her up into a lazy, flowing heat, pushing her higher and higher until she teetered on the edge of climax without falling over.

He kept her there for what felt like an eternity, until she was panting and writhing underneath him. Only then did he slide his hand from her back to her front, his thumb finding the bundle of nerves without fail and pressing down gently, massaging it in slow circles.

A soft, involuntary ‘_Ohhhhh..._’ fell from Evie’s lips when her peak hit, and her eyes rolled back inside her head when it lasted a lot longer than before.

Instead of her world exploding into ecstasy like the first two times, this time her orgasm felt more like a sliding over the edge of a shallow waterfall at the beginning of a series of rapids; the current pulling her under in the warm, tropical waters of a pleasure that ebbed and flowed, pushing her higher with each wave. It just stretched and stretched, carrying her further and further as she felt how even her womb clenched and unclenched powerfully in tandem with her sheath. She locked up around James’ cock so forcefully that all he could do was push deep and hold himself there; the extreme tightening sensation eliciting a deep growl from him before he shuddered violently and spilled inside her, no longer able to stave off his own climax.

‘_Fuck._’ He hissed against her temple as he lowered himself on top of her, keeping himself buried deep; his body trembling.

Both of them lay panting for a while, until James rolled to the side, pulling out of her in the same movement, and eliciting a small, almost disappointed moan from Evie at feeling the unexpected emptiness.

A comfortable silence reigned as they caught their breaths. 

‘_Jesus... I thought you were gay._’ Were the first breathless words out of Evie’s mouth when she regained her ability to talk. The part of her brain that took care of her filter was clearly lagging behind.

James pulled her into his arms, apparently feeling a need to snuggle, in spite of the humid heat inside the cabin, and their sweat covered bodies; cradling her against him as if she were the most precious thing in his world. She wasn’t complaining. Nope. Not at all. Never.

He actually managed a chuckle at her blurting out the unfiltered sentence.

‘Doll, I'm not a homosexual.’

‘But what about Steve?’

‘He’s not, either.’

‘But...’

‘We were... are... what used to be called “switch hitters”.’ He elaborated when she let out an uncomprehending sound. ‘We play for both teams. Our... interests lie with both sexes.’

‘Oh, you’re bisexual.’ Evie nodded into the darkness. ‘That does explain a lot, actually.’ She yawned and snuggled into James’ chest, rubbing her nose over his pecs and inhaling the delicious scent of spice and musk that always seemed to linger around him, before closing her eyes and letting out a content sigh. ‘What time is it?’ She mumbled sleepily.

A small light lit up at the side of the bed when James picked up the small digital alarm-clock to check the time.

‘A little past one a.m.’ 

He untangled himself from her and slipped off the bed to the ground. Then he picked her up from the top bunk, and gently laid her down on the mattress of the bottom bunk.

Evie sighed in pleasure when the cooler sheets hit her naked skin.

‘That’s nice.’ 

The air also was quite a bit more pleasant down in her bunk than it had been on top, with hot air rising and all. 

Kneeling next to her bed, James handed her her sleep shirt and pecked her on the nose.

‘Try and get some sleep.’ He said before standing and hopping back up into his bunk.

‘Mkay.’ Evie murmured, so tired from their extra-curricular activities that she was already going under; hugging her shirt to her chest as exhaustion pulled her into oblivion. ‘G’night, James.’

‘Night, Evie.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, whaddayathink? Good Easter gift?
> 
> Comments, Kudos, Ballads, Easter Eggs, they all feed the Muse.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and until next time, Peepz! 
> 
> XO


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunications...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone! 
> 
> Here's a nice little humpday thingy to tide you over to the weekend. ;)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> XO
> 
> Ps: Trigger warning for mentions of pregnancy loss and mentions of infertility.

**Chapter 11**

Somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean, between Suape, Brazil, South America, and Conacry, Guinea, Africa. Monday, 28 April 2014, 5:56 p.m.

‘Hey, Flynn, you been fighting with your brother?’ Asked Carlos, the head chef. -now the _only_ chef on board.

‘Huh? What?’ Evie looked up in surprise from where she’d been stirring in a huge pot filled with a hearty beef stew; the main dinner dish for the night. She had been promoted to assistant chef in the past few days as Carlos needed someone to help him with food-prep. Frowning, she shook her head. ‘No. Why?’

Carlos gestured towards the dining room, which lay adjacent to the semi-open kitchen area; a large self-service counter that housed the au-bain-marie containers blocking it off from the galley.

‘Cos he’s been sleeping out on deck for the past six nights, and if he wasn’t on deck, he slept on one of the couches in the rec room. Right now he’s scowling our way. Been doing that on and off for the past ten minutes.’

‘Oh...’ Evie swallowed and averted her eyes from the ever so perceptive chef.

_So that’s where he’s been hiding. _

‘Well... Sometimes he gets claustrophobic in our small cabin; the bunks are small, and it gets very warm and stuffy very quickly. He used to be a soldier. In... uh... in the Marines.’ she quickly made up...

_Lied_. Her brain interjected.

Well, sorta lied. He _had _been in a spec ops unit. Just not in this century.

‘Special Ops.’ She continued her train of thought, going with something as close to the truth as possible without giving away too much. ‘He’s lived through a lot of shite. Seen the worst of humanity several times over. Got captured a few times. Tortured. He has these _really_ bad nightmares, too, and doesn’t want to wake me up, so he usually leaves the cabin to me and sleeps somewhere else.’ She leaned back and glanced into the dining room where the one and only Bucky Barnes indeed sat scowling into the direction of the galley. ‘But why he looks like he wants to blow up the galley and us with it right now, I have _no_ idea...’ shrugging, and pretending to be unperturbed, she went back to stirring the stew.

Except for in passing on the ship and, even more rarely, a few shoulder brushes as she entered their cabin while he left, she hadn’t seen much of Barnes since their night together. He hardly acknowledged her unless she asked him a question, and he seemed to be trying his hardest to avoid her, just like before. And although she understood it was probably because he had trouble processing everything that had happened to him since his break from Hydra, all of it piling up into one great heap of wild confusion inside his mind, and their... coupling only adding to it, it still hurt.

All of her own hang-ups came to the forefront because of it. Her youth in foster care had been tough, being shipped from family to family and from home to home, never knowing if or when she’d be sent on. Never knowing if she was even wanted, or if the people fostering her only did it for the money. She didn’t _want_ to feel like she wasn’t wanted, or like she wasn’t enough, or as if she’d been found lacking, but in situations like this one it was hard to ignore the niggling feeling of paralysing self-doubt in the pit of her stomach. Of course she knew Barnes had no idea his behaviour triggered her deeply rooted insecurities, but, like him, she still had trouble pushing away her own “programming”, instilled inside her during her early childhood; mainly the intense fear of abandonment, along with her inability to lay down roots. The fact she owned a small studio flat -at least, she hoped she still did, with her being dead and all- in one of the cheaper -and less desirable- suburbs of Manchester, and had held a steady job as a digital researcher for the past two years, was a huge feat for her. Before that, she’d been drifting from job to job, and from city to city for years. Unable to lay down roots anywhere. Always feeling that unrest inside her grow when she stayed somewhere for more than a few months. Pushing for her to move on. Searching for... something she somehow never caught up with. It was why she had felt so at home on the ship, mooring in different ports every few days and then moving on. But that was over now. She couldn’t wait to leave it all behind… Ever since Markus... _Nope. Not thinking about that._

‘Shit man, I didn’t know about the Marines thing. Explains why he’s so detached and quiet, though. And maybe he just really doesn’t like stew?’ Carlos said; pulling her back to the present. She only caught part of what he said.

‘What?’ She asked, frowning. ‘Who doesn’t like stew?’

‘JJ... Maybe he hates stew? You know, from the way he’s scowling at the galley.’ He repeated the joke with a snicker. ‘Kid, I think you need an early night tonight. Your focus is shit.’

Evie sent him a weak grimace.

‘Yeah… Yeah, good idea.’ She agreed with him on the sleep, she hadn’t been sleeping well since... well, since the attack, and nodded before continuing, ‘JJ isn’t a very picky eater, though. I think he likes stew well enough.’ Shrugging again, she went to the cupboard to get the plates ready for dinner service. ‘I’ll ask him later if there’s something bothering him.’

—

She never did get the chance to confront Barnes on his behaviour, though. As soon as dinner had finished, he’d disappeared, and it was only two days later she saw him again; after they’d moored in the port of Conacry, Guinea -on the continent of freaking _Africa!_ Somewhere she wouldn’t have thought to end up visiting one day, but, hey, her life was going tits up anyway, and this place was as good as any to explore by now-.

She accidentally ran into the flighty and ever elusive mr Barnes inside their cabin after she’d been let go from the galley for the afternoon.

She wasn’t supposed to be there at that time, with lunch shift in full swing, but after hearing Flynn had never been to Africa before, Carlos had told her he had everything under control, and shooed her off; telling her to go enjoy an afternoon on shore. He was expecting her back before dinner shift started, though, which gave her about four hours to explore before she had to be back, and she’d hurried to the cabin to change into her ‘street clothes’. Where she ran into Barnes lounging on his bed; eyes closed and breathing slow.

He startled when the door opened, and jumped from the bed in one fluid motion, defences up, and ready for a fight. When he saw her, he minutely relaxed his stance. He avoided her gaze and moved toward the door without saying anything, trying to squeeze past her; signalling his intention to run.

Before he had the chance to disappear on her, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Or, at least she tried to. It was like trying to move a mountain with her bare hands.

He froze and whirled around as he glared down at her from between the strands of hair framing his face.

‘Let go.’ he growled, his tone a lethal warning.

‘No.’ In spite of the cold fury in his expression, which told her he was not in a good head space, Evie stood her ground. He sounded very pissed off, but she knew he could have easily removed himself from the cabin without even breaking a sweat, and that told her he wasn’t as averse to her touch or her presence as he made it seem.

Or maybe he was.

Before she knew it, Barnes had her shoved up against the wall of the cabin as he crowded her with his body. Her head painfully bounced off the wall-panel while his hand closed around her throat, keeping the pressure just on this side of cutting off her oxygen.

Startled, her gaze flew to his.

Underneath the frosty, baleful gaze of the Winter Soldier, she found a helpless anger and frustration, and a heat she hadn’t been expecting from his behaviour, and she felt how her body reacted almost instinctively; a shimmering, expectant desire pooling low. She witnessed the flare of his nostrils just before he recoiled and pressed himself against the back wall of the cabin while eyeing her warily.

He looked... worried.

If she hadn’t known better she’d call it... _afraid_. She couldn’t for the world of her imagine why he’d be afraid though,… of _her_ of all people. The worried expression on his face melted into one of raw longing seconds before a wall slammed up, leaving his face devoid of any expression.

_Wow, what was that? _The longing gaze was gone so fast she wondered if she’d seen it right.

_Oh… Wait a minute._

_Is _ ** _that_ ** _ why he’s been MIA?_

Evie stepped closer to him, determined to get him to talk to her.

‘You’ve been avoiding me all week. Is something wrong?’ she asked, playing dumb intentionally, and invading his space… just a bit. It worked, because the wall of cold indifference slowly crumbled in front of her eyes as his gaze searched her face.

‘I... I can’t...’ He swallowed, and sucked in a breath. ‘We can’t...’ Falling silent again, he blinked at her, his hesitant expression bleeding into one of intense anxiety and regret.

Taking pity on him, Evie reached out and laid her hand against his beard covered jaw. He flinched slightly, but didn’t retreat any further.

‘Hey, it’s alright. What’s going on, James? _Please_, talk to me.’

He frowned at her.

‘Why do you keep calling me James?’

‘Well, you told me you weren’t really Bucky anymore. And you’re also not the Winter Soldier, that’s for sure. So, I decided that I’d call you _James_... You know, it just made sense inside my head, and it slipped out a couple of times, I guess.’ She smiled shyly up at him. After a short pause where he didn’t really react to her statement, apart from staring at her a bit more, and she couldn’t get a good read on him, she continued apologetically, ‘Unless you don’t want that, of course. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I’d be alright with calling you by whichever name you’d like.’ She dropped her hand from his face, and turned away from him to sit down on her bunk; giving him the choice to join her, or keep holding the wall up with his back for a while longer.

‘James is fine.’ he said, stubbornly staying in his place against the wall.

‘Yes. He _definitely _is.’ Evie jested with a small smile, trying to lift the mood a bit. ‘Now, tell me, what is it that has you so out of sorts and is bothering you so much it has resulted into you avoiding me like the plague for the past week?’ She couldn’t help the slight tremor in her voice betraying her hurt, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

Barnes blinked at her when her first words clicked in his mind, and if she wasn’t mistaken one corner of his mouth pulled up a fraction in amusement before his face grew serious once more.

‘I’m sorry.’ His apology sounded flat.

‘Uh-huh.’ She said and crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. Sheesh, getting information out of him was like pulling a tooth. Painful and slow. So very, very slow. ‘Spill.’ Her demand left no room for any more skirting around the heart of the matter.

‘What?’ Confusion coloured his voice at her one word demand.

‘Tell me what’s bothering you.’ she elaborated with a sigh.

A harsh breath escaped him and his shoulders sagged.

‘We can’t be together.’ He blurted out.

‘Oh?’ She’d be lying if the blunt statement didn’t smart just a bit.

_Ugh. Get a grip, Eves. It’s not like you expected him to declare his undying devotion after only one night together. You barely know the dude, not after only sporadically seeing him during this… trip. No matter how much you’ve read about him in your books. He is not the same man anymore. _

‘What we did last week… was a mistake.’ Rubbing his face tiredly while he said it, made Barnes miss how that verbal blow made Evie cringe slightly before she schooled her features. ‘A _big _mistake.’

‘It was?’ Evie felt proud of how neutrally curious her voice sounded, in spite of the hurt boiling over inside. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard that one before concerning her person. She should be used to it by now. She was a mistake. A mistake. _Mistake…_ It echoed inside her mind as her stomach clenched in sadness and anxiety.

Barnes, unaware of the turmoil inside of her, just barrelled on, nodding.

‘It was.’ he confirmed. ‘It was irresponsible and dangerous.’

_Huh? What?_

In spite of her hurt feelings, Evie frowned when she heard his peculiar choice of words.

‘Dangerous? How can having consensual sex be dangerous? I mean, apart from all the transmittable diseases and stuff. But I don’t really have to watch for those, my body gets rid of anything dangerous or alien invading it.’ She didn’t really see how his worry would be justified. ‘I would have thought your mutation would take care of such things, too.’

‘_Diseases_ aren’t the only thing a woman can walk away with after… hm, _after_.’ James gazed at her with a meaningful look.

_Uh… O-kay?_

_Oh…_

** _Oh._ ** ****

Evie shook her head when she realised what he meant.

‘No. Not possible.’ It was something she’d made peace with long ago, or so she kept telling herself. Still, there was a slight twinge of… loss, every time it came up. Not because she couldn’t have a child, but because she would never even have the _choice_. Because she never had a choice in the first place.

‘Of course it’s possible.’ James frowned at her dismissal of his worries. ‘We used no protection and I finished inside you. Twice.’

‘No, it’s _not_ possible… You remember me telling you how my body attacks and gets rid of anything alien invading it? Well, it’s not only diseases it takes care of. Your sperm didn’t stand a chance. And even if any of it survived and managed to fertilise an egg, then my body will get rid of that egg in about two days time, give or take a day, when I get my period. Exactly as it always has done since I was fourteen years old.’

‘You don’t _know_ that.’

‘Yes. I _do_.’ Fuck, this talk was opening old wounds, in spite of her being nonchalant about it on the outside. ‘When I was in my early twenties, I was in a relationship where we tried to have a baby. It didn’t work out; neither the baby, nor the relationship for that matter… It turns out my body doesn’t produce the hormones which make sure it doesn’t reject the foetus. The doctors were flummoxed by what they called a “defect”, and no matter what they tried, they couldn’t circumvent the abnormality. Of course, I then knew it was because of my mutation and I couldn’t tip them off, because I didn’t want anyone to find out about that. So, I stopped going to appointments, and just left it. It did teach me something new about my body, though; everything it perceives as alien is pushed out almost immediately. Including a newly formed embryo.’ A shuddering sigh escaped her, and, in spite of telling herself she had left that horrible time behind, she quickly rubbed her eyes to get rid of the tears forming there.

_So stupid. Stop thinking about it. You can’t change any of it._

‘Oh, thank god.’ Barnes sagged against the wall, and sounded so relieved it was another blow to her already raw emotions.

‘Good to know the idea of having a child with me repulses you so.’ she bit out between clenched teeth, feeling her temper rise at his callous words. No matter how much she agreed with him that it was a good thing she wasn’t pregnant, because, who would even _want_ a baby with all the fucked up things going on in her life right now -and fuck, she didn’t want a baby, full stop-, there still was this little niggling voice in the back of her mind going, _Not good enough. Never good enough._

When she looked up at him, she saw how his eyes widened with horrified realisation.

‘No! That’s _not_ what I meant!’ With one step he was beside her, setting himself down next to her on the lower bunk, and pulling her rigid form into his arms.

‘Let go of me.’ Evie struggled against his powerful hold, but who was she kidding? She’d never be able to escape if he didn’t release her voluntarily.

He pressed a kiss to her temple and loosened his hold on her, keeping an arm around her shoulders and rubbing her arm in a comforting gesture.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.’ The regret in his voice was almost tangible.

‘No? How_ should_ you have said it then? Hm?’ She couldn’t help the hurt she felt seeping through into her voice. ‘You’ve made yourself more than clear. Last week was a big mistake. And it won’t happen again. I got the message.’ Evie stood from her perch, James’ arm falling away from her shoulders.

Unbuttoning her chef’s coat, she shrugged it off with jerky movements and threw it onto her bunk; her sweaty t-shirt followed suit. She was beyond any show of decorum towards the man sitting on her bed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before. And besides, she had her binder on. It covered her more than a bikini at the beach ever would.

Quickly, she chose a clean, oversized shirt from the small wardrobe and pulled it on. Her work trousers followed her t-shirt and chef’s coat onto the bunk and she pulled on a pair of baggy, torn jeans, fastening it around her hips with a brown leather belt she’d haggled from a street vendor in Cartagena.

‘I’m going out for the afternoon.’ she said, sliding a couple of American ten dollar bills into her pocket. ‘I’ll be back before dinner shift starts.’

Barnes… _James_, who until then had sat watching her with weary eyes, stood and blocked the door, preventing the swift exit she’d hoped for.

‘No.’ The word seemed to echo through the room, in spite of the low volume with which it had been spoken.

‘What do you mean,_ no_?’ To say Evie was fed up with the whole male posturing thing was an understatement, and the words that came out of her mouth mirrored her feelings. ‘_Move!_’

‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘You know, _I’m_ the one who’s dangerous right now. I suggest you move before I kick you in the sack.’

Apparently, James didn't really want to chance it to see how serious she was about her threat, because he stepped to the side after only a moment of hesitation.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll be back by dinner. And if I get killed, I’ll be back tomorrow morning.’ she grumbled through clenched teeth, pulling open the door to the hallway.

‘_There are worse things than death…_’ were the last whispered words she heard from James before the door fell closed behind her and she stomped away, fuming.

Little did she know that those last words would come back to haunt her in the following months. And little did she know that those would be the last words she would hear from him for a long time to come.

The moment she set foot in one of the small shops clustered around a marketplace in the centre of Conacry, there was a painful sting to her neck. Her surroundings started to swim in front of her eyes almost immediately, and a whispered ‘_shite_’ was the last thing to pass her lips when she realised someone knew about her mutation, because they certainly knew how to knock her out. Fuck, that was a strong sedative. Like, an elephant tranquilliser, at the very least…

Then, the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... O.o ...Whatever will happen next?
> 
> Let me know what you think, and how you're all doing in these times of incredible stress and... more fucking stress. ugh.
> 
> Until next time, my darlings!
> 
> XO


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries, Findings, and Losses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> Substantial time-jump ahead!
> 
> Trigger Warning for descriptions of severe malnourishment, and mentions of WWII and extermination camps. Also, PTSD and unstable minds.
> 
> The chapter does end on a good note, though, more or less. Bitter-sweet.

**Chapter 12**

Wednesday, 18 February 2015, 10:45AM. Hydra Research Base, Sokovia, Eastern Europe.

‘_Looks like your violent boy hasn’t found this one, yet, Cap!_’ came Tony Stark’s chipper voice through the comms as he flew alongside the Avengers team while they fought their way through a contingent of Hydra soldiers, and moved steadily towards a heavily fortified Hydra base. ‘_The stronghold seems to be completely intact._’

‘He’s not a _boy_.’ Steve shot back, not denying Bucky’s penchant for incredible violence, nor his place in Steve’s heart. ‘And, yes, it looks like he hasn’t made it this far into Europe, yet.’

‘_Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to say, your homicidal maniac of a _**_man_**_, who has blown up just about every Hydra base between Guinea and Greece in the past nine-and-a-half-months… What’s up with that, anyway? I get him being pissed at Hydra for the past seventy years, but the way he’s been methodically slaughtering his way through all these bases seems to be about something else. It’s too well thought out and strategised to be the psychotic killing spree of a man gone off the deep end._’

‘I’ll ask him when I finally catch up with him.’ Steve grunted as he threw two enemy soldiers into another one and in the same movement avoided being hit by a truck.

Although the Hydra soldiers had weapons upgraded with alien tech, they weren’t a real challenge for the team; barely more than a nuisance, really.

Until Clint got himself shot thanks to an enhanced enemy combatant running around in the field, but even then, while Thor took a wounded Clint back to the quinjet, both Tony and Steve were able to make their way into the Hydra stronghold, which turned out to be some kind of research base.

Just as Steve walked into a huge hole in the wall of the Hydra base, courtesy of Iron Man, his comm crackled to life.

‘_We’re locked down out here._’ said Natasha’s voice, affirming everything was under control outside.

‘Get to Banner. Time for a lullaby.’ Steve ordered, and walked on, searching for anything or anyone able to assist him on his search for the powerful sceptre they had been hunting down for months now. The same sceptre Loki had used during the invasion of New York City, which had disappeared when SHIELD had fallen almost a year ago.

It didn’t take long for Steve to run into someone important, just as he’d knocked out a foot soldier.

‘Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thug.’ he said to the man standing cockily in front of him.

‘Technically… I am a thug for SHIELD.’ said Strucker, smugness colouring his tone.

‘Well, then _technically_ you’re unemployed.’ Steve’s voice betrayed how fed up he was with smug thugs. ‘Where’s Loki’s sceptre?’

‘Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat… You will mention how I cooperated, I hope.’ Strucker changed his approach, trying to get the best deal he could out of Steve.

‘I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation... How many of those are there?’

Strucker had no chance to react before Steve was hit with an energy burst and thrown down a set of stairs. It didn’t take long for him to regain his bearings and sprint his way back up to the top of said stairs, though; just in time to see a young woman slam a metal gate shut and disappear from sight.

‘We have a second enhanced.’ he warned his team. ‘Female. Do _not _engage.’ He refocused his attention on Strucker.

‘You’ll have to be faster than th-’ With a kick to his shield, Steve slammed it into Strucker’s face, shutting him up and knocking him out with one movement; ridding himself from the annoyance of having to listen to the man’s slimy voice.

Quickly, he bound the man’s hands and feet, trussing him up like a turkey.

‘Guys, I got Strucker. He’s knocked out in a hallway on the second floor, above the fortress’ large entrance doors. Thor, can you come pick him up?’

‘_Of course Captain. I am on my way._’

‘_Yeah, I got something… bigger._’ came Tony’s distracted voice through the comms.

‘Where are you Tony?’ Steve asked.

‘_Thor, I got eyes on the prize._’ Tony ignored Steve’s inquiry. Apparently he’d located the sceptre.

‘Tony, where are you? I’ll come to you.’ Steve repeated.

Again, Tony didn’t answer him.

‘Tony?’ Still, nothing.

‘Jarvis, can you hear me?’

‘_Yes, Captain?_’

‘Where is Tony?’

‘_Mr Stark is in the dungeons, sir. He appears to be in some kind of trance, and is not responding to my attempts to wake him._’

‘Tell me how to get to him.’ Steve ordered Jarvis as he picked up his shield and attached it to his arm. He almost flew down the first set of stairs in his haste to get to his teammate and friend who seemed to be in a whole lot of trouble.

With Jarvis’ help, he managed to locate the hidden chamber of horrors Tony had discovered within minutes; just in time to see the two enhanced people he’d encountered in the field disappear in the blink of an eye. He didn’t pursue. They were of later concern.

‘Steve, what are you doing here?’ Tony asked, looking confused and a bit dazed. In his armour covered right hand he held Loki’s sceptre. Thankfully he’d had the presence of mind to not touch it with bare hands.

‘I tried to reach you, but you didn’t answer, and then Jarvis said you were compromised, so I ran down here to help.’ Steve explained.

‘Yeah… someone hit me with a bunch of hallucinogens… I think… But I’m okay now. Look! I found the sceptre.’ Tony wrinkled his nose at the weapon and held it out to Steve.

Holding up his hands, Steve shook his head.

‘No, you keep it. I don’t really wanna know what happens if I touch it. I think it’s safer if we keep that armour of yours between _it_ and any bare skin or thin gloves.’

‘Yeah, good call.’ Tony lowered the sceptre and looked around at the large underground chamber. ‘What a freak-show down here, huh? Mighty interesting gadgets, though.’

Frowning at his surroundings, Steve took in all the alien tech in various stages of disassembly, strewn around on metal tables, and the huge, dead alien air-whale hanging suspended from the ceiling. Baron Strucker must have been conducting most of his bigger experiments underground, so no-one living outside the fortress would get suspicious and come to investigate if something exploded or lit up by accident.

Suddenly, his sensitive ears picked up a sound; a soft, almost breathless cry of pain, followed by a soothing murmur so low even he couldn’t make out the words. It came from quite a ways down a hallway to his left.

‘Why don’t you take this thing to the quinjet, and I’ll do a last sweep down here to make sure we haven’t missed anyone.’ he said to Tony as he gestured at the sceptre, his attention shifting between the man in front of him and the almost-not-there sounds coming from his left. He didn’t know why, but his gut feeling told him to get rid of the boisterous billionaire.

‘You sure?’ Tony raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine.’

‘Okay.’ Tony stepped backwards into his suit; its thrusters already firing up for flight as it closed up around him. ‘I’ll see you at the jet.’ With that, he was off the ground and gone in the blink of an eye.

Turning to his left, Steve slowly made made his way down the dark hallway, keeping his steps as quiet as possible.

At the end of it there stood a rusty metal door slightly ajar.

Another cry tore through the silence, this time more audible than before.

‘Shhh, it’ll be alright... I’m sorry if it hurts, but I had to pick you up.’ To Steve’s surprise he _knew_ the voice quietly murmuring at whomever was being kept in that cell.

_No, it can’t be!_

‘_Hu... urts._’ came the whispered answer.

‘I know, doll. Just hold onto me, and I’ll get us out of here.’

Hearing the familiar voice again made Steve hurriedly throw open the door, his shield hanging uselessly by his side and his defences completely down.

He came eye to barrel with a huge gun, cocked and ready to shoot; a gleaming, metal index finger millimetres away from pulling the trigger and blowing his brains out.

Dark blue eyes glared coldly at him through greasy strings of long, dark brown hair, telling him that if he didn’t move away right then and there, he would never move again. They stood like that for a couple of seconds, staring at each other in silence, Steve being quite sure Bucky’s hostile scowl would be the last thing he’d ever see.

That was, until the man seemed to recognise him and uncocked the gun, lowered it, and, to Steve’s immense surprise, holstered it at his hip.

A soft whimper pulled the focus of both men to the small, incredibly skinny form weakly clamping their arms and legs around Bucky’s torso as he gingerly supported his precious cargo against him with his right hand and arm.

The wretched little thing, sporting a mop of greasy and limply wavy blonde hair, let out a high, keening sound when Bucky jostled her accidentally. His left arm joined his right, wrapping around the person with such care and gentleness it brought tears to Steve’s eyes.

‘Shhh, it’s okay, doll. Shhh, everything will be alright, Evie.’

_Wait... what?!_

Hearing the name startled Steve, and he narrowed his eyes at the skinny person in Bucky’s arms, looking closer. At first he’d thought them a severely malnourished child. So incredibly thin, all their bones were visible underneath the skin, and even underneath the large t-shirt that covered their body.

Hearing Bucky mutter the name of the feisty woman who had left such a deep impression on him during the events in D.C., ten months earlier, and who had been brutally murdered and then had her body stolen from the morgue -presumably by Hydra-, felt very surreal.

The hair colour did look like hers, though.

And so did her height and build.

But... It couldn’t be. Evie was dead. He’d heard Natasha’s first-hand testimony. He’d seen the footage. Evie had tried to catch a bullet for Fury, like the stupidly courageous woman she was, and had been shot through the head for her troubles. No-one came back from that.

He’d mourned her.

They had buried an empty casket.

_Evie is dead._

_Isn’t she?_

‘Is... is that _Evie Woods?!_’ Steve couldn’t help the half hopeful, half disbelieving tone in his voice.

All he got was a small nod of the head from Bucky, but it was enough.

A whoosh of air left his lungs and the same relief he hadn’t known until he’d found Bucky again last year swept through him. But...

‘How?’ The question left his lips before he could stop it. ‘She _died_.’

‘She did... And then she woke up in the morgue.’

‘What?’

‘She doesn’t stay dead. It won’t stick.’ The woman in Bucky’s arms groaned softly as she tried to lift her head. ‘Don’t exert yourself, let me do the work, doll.’ Bucky said to Evie, slightly adjusting his grip.

_’S’whah… she said.’_ came the almost inaudible, but sassy reply from against his shoulder.

It elicited a short, amused sounding chuckle from Bucky, and Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard anything more beautiful.

‘Bucky...’ The name fell from his lips in something akin a prayer.

Bucky’s flat, dead gaze met his, not betraying any of his feelings -if he even had those anymore- in spite of the soft, warm tone he’d displayed when he’d spoken to Evie.

‘_Don’t_.’ The warning was clear, the voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

Steve pressed his lips together, forcing himself to go slow with the other man, no matter how much he wanted to drag him off home and care for him until he was well again, both in body and mind.

_Don’t scare him off!_

‘_Steve, are you okay down there?_’ Natasha’s voice came through the comm in his ear. ‘_We’re ready to go. Clint needs medical attention ASAP._’

He tapped the small thing and answered in the affirmative.

‘Almost done here, I’ll meet you up top in five.’

‘Are you able to care for her?’ Bucky asked suddenly, his voice laced with urgency. He looked like he was ready to bolt.

‘What?’ Steve frowned as he refocused his attention to the matter at hand.

‘Evie. Do you have the means and power to protect her?’ Bucky elaborated when he saw the question-mark on Steve’s face, his voice becoming less robotic and more emotional the longer he spoke. ‘I... My life right now... I won’t be able to protect her all the time. Hell, I couldn’t even prevent her abduction in Guinea. I’ve been hunting for her for almost ten months, but they kept... they kept moving her... And I don’t know the entirety of what they’ve done to her... the experiments-… From what research I’ve been able to recover-… A lot has happened to her. The things they did…’ A haunted look flitted over his face before it became blank again.

_Ah, so _ ** _she’s_ ** _ the reason behind his murderous rampage over the past months..._

Understanding what Bucky asked of him, Steve nodded.

‘Yes. I’m able to protect her from Hydra, or anyone else looking to hurt her. We are able to protect her. The Avengers-’

‘**_No!_** It has to be _you_! I don’t trust _anyone_ else.’ Bucky’s eyes became wild and his arms tightened around the frail body in his embrace, eliciting a soft mewl in protest. His metal hand shifted into the direction of the gun on his hip. ‘If you can’t promise me that, then I’ll take her and care for her myself.’ Taking a step towards the door, Bucky shifted his stance so his left side faced Steve and he protectively shielded Evie’s body.

Steve’s hand shot up in a halting gesture.

‘_No_, I can protect her... I can protect you _both!_’ The words rolled from his tongue in desperation before he could stop them.

Bucky froze, and then shook his head.

‘Only her. I’m _not_ coming with you.’

Steve, realising the mistake he made with his last words, was quick to acquiesce.

‘Alright, Buck. _Alright_... I understand... I’ll take care of her. I swear I’ll protect her.’

It took a moment, but eventually Bucky nodded, and he slowly lowered Evie’s body to the dirty, stained mattress on the floor. He kneeled next to her emaciated form and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and then a lingering one to her lips. Evie was so weak she didn’t even have the energy to reciprocate, but Steve still felt a sting of envy at seeing Bucky’s deep care for her.

‘I have to go, doll, but Steve is going to take care of you. He’ll make sure you’ll get healthy again. You’ll be safe with him.’ He caressed her face tenderly before he stood, ignoring the woman’s breathless, protesting cry.

Looking down at Evie, Steve suppressed a shiver of horror as feelings of compassion overtook his being. She was nothing more than a skeleton covered with skin; eyes deeply sunken in her skull above the sharp cheekbones and hollow cheeks, and her lips pulled tightly across her teeth. The once spirited, brave woman reduced to a hurting, listless bag of bones.

The sad thought distracted him enough for Bucky to surprise him by pushing him up against the wall, the man’s metal hand clamping down tightly around his neck.

‘**_You_** will protect her. Understand? No-one else.’

‘No-one else. She’s safe with me, Buck. I give you my _word_.’ Steve stayed relaxed in the tight grip, his body-language open and non-threatening; conveying how serious he was about the promise with his solemn voice and expression.

Bucky’s gaze bored into his, burning with an almost obsessive, unholy light, hot and cold at the same time, flickering between lucidity and madness. It drove home the realisation of how fractured the man before him really was, and Steve had to stomp down the urge to cry at seeing the man he loved in such a tortured state of despair.

‘Last year, _you_ woke me up, but _she… _She _saved_ me, Stevie. She pulled me from the abyss. I was almost gone, but then she suddenly popped up beside me one day, started talking to me and wouldn’t let me be. And then she singlehandedly dragged me back towards the light; as far into the light as she could take my shattered mind, at least. And then… Hydra took her… They want to use her mutation to make more soldiers like us. Better than us, even. Soldiers who are beyond death. Immortal, no matter how much is done to them.’ Bucky’s haunted eyes traveled to where Evie lay on the mattress before they refocused on Steve. ‘I have to stop them before they get the chance to slash their claws into her again.’

‘Buck, this was the last stronghold of Hydra. We got them all.’ Steve couldn’t really believe it yet, himself, but if the intel was correct, this was the day they had eradicated Hydra; pulled out the poisonous weed by the root.

‘You’re _wrong_. They’ve just gone underground. Made you _believe_ this was the last of them. It’s what they _do_… Cut off one head… I’m going to find every last one of them and destroy it all. I’ll burn them to the ground for what they’ve done to her… to me…’ Bucky hesitated a moment before adding, ‘_For what they did to _**_us_**_._’ With that last whisper Bucky’s mouth crashed against Steve’s in a rough, almost violent kiss, all lips and tongue and clashing teeth.

It hurt just as much as it felt good, but that didn’t matter. All Steve could do was hold on for dear life and reciprocate, because, god, it had been _so_ long. Heat flared to life in his abdomen at the same time as the love and grief he’d held for Bucky all these years expanded until it felt like his heart would explode from all the contradicting emotions flowing through his veins. Love and grief, lust and hesitation, joy and despair, hope and fear. All battled for dominance inside him.

In a way, he suspected he was just as fractured as Bucky; although, maybe not as damaged.

Deep in his soul, something didn’t feel completely right, though. It was all too much, too hard, too fast. Too… desperate. Too much like a goodbye and a fare-thee-well.

Before Steve had the chance to halt their kiss and beg for Bucky to please, _please, _stay, Bucky ripped his mouth away, and before Steve had realised what had happened, the other man had gone. Leaving no trace and no sound behind; only the tingling of Steve’s bruised lips to prove he’d ever been there at all.

Panting, Steve wet his lips, his tongue chasing the quickly dissipating taste of one Bucky Barnes. Leaning back against the cold, damp wall of the dungeon, he could feel the black despair of loss creep up on him, and a sob made its way up his chest.

He only barely suppressed it and blinked away the sudden wetness in his eyes as he forced himself to regain his composure. He couldn’t fall apart. He did not have that luxury. Not now.

Grieving and processing the events of the day would have to wait… until later. Like everything always did. And probably always would.

He tiredly rubbed his face with his hands and schooled his features. Then, he turned to the tiny pile of misery and bones on the mattress.

If he didn’t know any better he would have thought her long deceased, but then her ribcage -each and every one of her ribs visible underneath the thin, oversized t-shirt she wore- expanded and she pulled a shallow breath into her emaciated body.

The horrific sight unexpectedly sent Steve’s mind back to an event that had taken place over seventy years earlier. A flashback to a Howling Commandos mission behind enemy lines popping up on his retinas. It had taken them deep into Poland where they had happened upon a concentration camp. Although it hadn’t been their objective, they had tried to free all the captives, but too many of them had been like Evie. Too thin and too weak to even walk, let alone escape. The immense guilt and grief he’d felt from having to leave those people behind had plagued him for many months -and even years- after. It still did sometimes.

A small sound from Evie pulled him back to the present, and he quickly pushed away the ghosts of his past, forcing them back into the dark recesses of his mind.

Attaching his shield to its magnetic holster on his back to have it out of the way, he kneeled next to the dirty mattress, took off the glove on his right hand, and lightly touched Evie’s face with his fingertips. Her skin felt icy cold to the touch, and fragile like the thinnest of paper, ready to rip from even the slightest mistreatment. When someone was as emaciated as she, each touch and every movement would mean agony. Quickly, he pulled his glove back on and hardened his heart against the pain he would have to put her through in order to get her out of the fortress.

‘Evie, can you hear me, sweetheart?’

The sunken eyes blinked open slowly, the once bright and shiny hazel irises now dull with pain and suffering, and seemingly too big for her bony face.

‘_James?_’ The question was nothing more but a scratchy breath over dry, chapped lips.

‘No, it’s Steve.’ God what had they done to her for her to be in this state? They must have kept her just on the brink of starvation and dehydration for longer than he cared to think about. And for what? So she wouldn’t fight when they carried out their horrific experiments on her body? But why? The Evie he had met ten months earlier might have had a very impressive healing mutation, but other than that she had been a perfectly normal human being and hadn’t posed any threat or danger to anyone. Steve swallowed thickly at the thought of the Hydra scientists treating her this cruelly just to amuse themselves and see what happened if her energy levels ran low. It made bile rise in his throat and a white hot anger explode in his gut.

‘_St…eve?_’ Was there a slight recognition in her gaze as her eyes roamed over his features? Could she even process what she saw anymore? ’_Wher’s… James?_

_James? _

_O, right… Bucky. _

Had she already forgotten about Bucky saying goodbye to her? Steve decided to not make life harder for her than it already was and told a white lie.

‘Bucky had to make sure the path was clear for us to get out safely, so he’s gone to scout ahead.’ He slid his arms under her shoulders and knees as gently as he could. ‘I’m going to pick you up now, and carry you out… I’m sorry if I hurt you, but there’s no other way to get you out of here… Okay?’

Evie nodded ever so slightly.

‘_’Kay.’ _

As quickly as he could, Steve stood while cradling Evie to his chest, doing his best to jostle her as little as possible. Still, a soft cry of agony passed her lips.

‘I’m sorry.’ he said, scanning her face for any other sign of discomfort.

She didn’t react to his apology, and seemed to have passed out for the moment. Thankfully, he could still feel her ribcage expand as she drew breath after shallow breath; her heartbeat visible in the vein along her neck, fluttering fast, like the heartbeat of a small bird.

‘_Cap? You coming up, or what?_’ Tony’s impatience was clearly audible in his voice. _‘Clint is in bad shape._’

‘_M’fine, Cap. Is jussa fleshwoun’._’ slurred Clint’s voice over the comms, the pain meds they’d given him clearly already taking effect.

‘I’m on my way. Got a bit sidetracked… I need a stretcher with as much cushioning as possible, a saline drip, and everything else medical needed to care for a very malnourished and dehydrated woman. If anyone knows how to make some kind of porridge from protein bars, then get to work. We’re gonna have to start feeding her small doses immediately.’ Steve made his way out of the cell, through the chamber of horrors, up to the basement level, and then up to ground level as fast as he could. ‘Natasha?’

‘_Yes, Steve?’_

‘Call Sam, and tell him to meet us at the tower as soon as we land. I think we’re gonna need his expertise on trauma counselling.’

‘_What happened, Steve? _**_Who_**_ did you find?_’ Leave it to Nat to read between the lines and draw the correct conclusions about him finding someone important within the fortress.

‘It’s Evie, Nat. I found Evie. She’s alive.’

Silence reigned for only a second. It was the only thing betraying Natasha’s shock.

Then…

‘_Consider it done._’

The comms clicked off and Steve hurried out into the enormous courtyard of the fortress, where the quinjet hovered steadily at half a metre above the ground. He hopped up onto its open hatch easily, Evie not even registering as a weight to his arms or legs.

As soon as he was on the jet, the hatch closed behind him and without much further ado they were off, Tony piloting them into the direction of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...
> 
> Onwards and upwards, I guess... 
> 
> Right?
> 
> If you liked (is that the right word for a chapter such as this one? I can't really say 'enjoyed', right?), please let me know through a Comment (even a keyboard slam is enough), or a Kudos, if you haven't left one of those already.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and until next time!
> 
> XO


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall-out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! :D
> 
> And Happy Reading!
> 
> XO

**Chapter 13**

Wednesday, 18 February 2015, 4:24PM. Avengers Tower, New York City, USA.

…

‘…-ow is she?’

‘…-ncredible speed. Her body’s cellular regeneration rate is off the cha-’

…

‘…needs more saline. And change the ba-’

…

…

‘…-an’t believe how much better she looks already.’

_...Is tha-..._

_..._

_...Stev-..._

...

…

_Beep… beep… beep… beep… bee-_

…

…

‘…-ure he’s gonna be okay?’

…

…

‘…is creating tissue.’

‘If you brought him to my lab… …could do this in twenty min-’

…

_Soft… Soft... Blanket?..._

_Feels… Warm… Why is it warm?_

_…_

‘Oh, he’s flatlining! Call it! Time?’ An amused male voice loudly penetrated the fog floating around inside her brain and Evie sucked in a soft breath; intense fear landing like a huge, heavy boulder in her stomach.

_Who is that?!_

_Beep… beep… beep…beep..beep..beep..beep.._

‘Nonono, Imma live forever… I’m gonna be made of _plastic_.’ The low, grumbling male voice answering the other man also sounded amused.

_Did they move me again?!_

_Beep..beep..beep..beep..beep.beep.beep_

_Oh god, what are they going to do to me this time?!_

‘You’ll be made of you, mr Barton. Your own girlfriend won’t be able to tell the difference.’

_Oh, that’s a woman… What are they doing? Where did they take me?!_Evie felt her heartbeat increase, and her breathing became irregular. She had learned over the past months that there was no empathy to be expected from the female scientists. None. Coldhearted bitches they were, every last one of them.

‘Well, I don’ have a girlfriend.’ grumbling man said.

‘_That_ I can’t fix.’ That was the woman again.

_Why are they talking about girlfriends?!_ These people had no qualms talking and joking nonchalantly about their lives while they were conducting the most horrific and excruciatingly painful experiments on her, that she knew, but talking about fixing people up with girlfriends, or not? That was a new one.

_Oh god, I can’t go through this again! why don’t they just put an end to it?… I want to go home!... Please, let me go home!… Or kill me! Just kill me!... _

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep-bebeep-bebeep-bebeep…_

Inside her body, Evie could feel a pressure start to build. Fear and grief and terror and horror all built and built, feeding the swirl of alien energy the Hydra scientists had forcibly merged with her cells on a molecular level. Over and over and over they had exposed her to the immensely powerful force inside the glowing weapon they called ‘The Sceptre’, until it stuck; until it became a part of her being.

Until she was so different from how she used to be.

_Monster!_

‘Uh, Helen, is that supposed to happen?’ Another male voice was thrown into the mix. This one sounded more melodious and quiet than the other two males in the room. ‘Her vitals are spiking dangerously, and look at her brain activity…’

Evie could feel how a group of people surrounded the bed -or, at least she thought it was a bed- she lay on, and she started to kick her legs in a bid to push herself up and away. To her surprise, her legs worked exactly as they were supposed to. Which was strange, because she hadn’t had the strength to move, let alone push herself up like she had right then and there, in weeks, or even months. Not since they started starving her to keep her docile.

Her eyes flew open and she took in her surroundings; visual information burning into her brain in quick succession as her eyes blinked against the bright lights overhead. Sterile surfaces and gleaming instruments. Chrome and glass. Beeping and whirring.

_It’s a lab… I’m in a lab… I’m in a lab… NONONONO! Not again not again not again not again…_

Ignoring the startled faces of the four people -two men and two women- surrounding her, Evie rolled from the bed to the floor, the IVs in her hands and arms ripping out of her skin from the instinctive, uncontrolled movement. She pushed away the pain of the torn skin -those small holes would close by themselves within seconds anyway, so why pay any attention to the hurt?- and of hitting the concrete floor with her knees, before she rolled to her back and quickly scooted backwards on her bum, away from the four people who posed a threat, until she was halted when she hit a wall at her back. She sucked in highly irregular breaths while her eyes flitted to and fro, trying to locate an escape route, but not really taking in anything useful; a panic attack looming big and scary at the edge of her consciousness.

The pressure she could feel inside built up higher until it reached unbearable levels. All around the lab, machines started to beep and scream, while alarms went off on the heart monitor that was still wirelessly connected to her body through the stickers which had been stuck to her chest.

_Too loud. Too loud. Too loud._

Pressing her hands against her ears, Evie tried to shut out the piercing sounds and fought to breathe through the painful build-up of energy. On the inside, she felt like a rubber band which had been stretched too far, on the brink of snapping; or like a balloon ready to burst.

‘_Shut up_, shut up, shut UP shUT UP SHUTUPSHUTUUUUP!’ The scream left her lungs at the same time as the culmination of power inside slammed outward through her skin in one big wave of invisible energy, leaving her blissfully empty for a couple of seconds before the power inside started to swirl and swell once again. 

Machines sparked, lights dimmed and then went out, alarms stopped blaring.

Silence.

Blissful silence.

The space Evie had found herself in when she woke up, a glass encased lab room located slightly higher up than another, bigger laboratory, which surrounded the smaller room on three sides, was now being lit up only by the fading daylight coming in through the large windows some fifteen metres to Evie’s left.

‘What the hell?’ The man whom Evie had heard speak first after she’d woken up grabbed a tablet computer and started to type away on it like a madman. ‘Jarvis, status report.’

‘_We have been hit by a short-range EMP burst, sir. Any damage done is contained to the lab; mostly blown fuses and damaged smaller equipment without circuit breakers in place. My sensors have determined that the burst came from miss Woods. And… it seems as if she is charging up again._’

_Where did that voice come from?!_

Evie watched with panicked eyes how one of the women in the room crouched down to her knees and scooted towards her, a placating expression gracing the woman’s face. She felt how her breathing sped up and her heart rate doubled. She pressed her back to the wall when the red-haired woman came too close for comfort.

_Why does she look so familiar? _The thought shot through her mind just before the edges of her vision blurred due to the terror once again taking a hold of her.

‘Hey.’ said the woman, keeping her body language open as she sat herself down on her bum in front of Evie, keeping about a two metre distance between them.

A vague recognition niggled at the edge of Evie’s mind. She knew that quiet, soothing voice from somewhere. Frowning in confusion, she pressed herself back against the wall and tried to make herself even smaller than she already was; the pressure inside building again, feeding off of the intense terror and panic coursing through her. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears and she had trouble focusing on anything other than her fear.

‘Do you remember who I am? We met briefly, last year. I’m Natasha… I work with Steve.’ the woman asked with a small smile. ‘We’re the Avengers.’ she gestured at the other people in the room, none of whom looked familiar to Evie.

One name she’d heard did ring a bell, though.

_Steve? _The vague memory of a handsome face with kind blue eyes and a roguish smile flashed through Evie’s mind. It was all so hazy, and she had trouble remembering things straight. So much had happened to her. Too much pain, and fear, and humiliation, and torture pushing away the ability to access any other memories than those of misery and hurt. It was all she had known for what had felt like hundreds of years. Time had had no meaning to her for such a long time.

When Evie didn’t really react to the words the woman had spoken, the latter continued her monologue.

‘You’re safe now. Steve found you inside a Hydra base in Eastern Europe this morning, and we brought you home with us. You’re in New York now.’

_New York?_

‘Keep talking, Romanoff, it’s working, she’s calming down.’ the man holding the tablet said suddenly as he studied something displayed on its screen.

Startled by his unexpectedly loud voice, Evie let out a cry of fear and launched herself at the woman in front of her with the intention of causing some damage -Like fuck she was calming down. She would _never_ calm down if they didn’t let her go-. Hopefully she’d do enough damage to the woman to be able to escape, because there was no way she believed their story. There was no way she had been freed. It was a pipe dream, construed by her scattered, drugged out mind.

The probability that she was still on her mattress in the dungeons, hallucinating the entire thing, was higher than the unrealistic story of someone coming to save her. She’d given up on that ever happening after the fifth time she’d been intentionally killed during an _experiment_.

To her surprise the woman evaded her attack easily and didn’t stop her when she scrambled to her feet and half stumbled half ran out of the glass room they were in, followed by a clumsy trip down a set of metal stairs; her legs trembling dangerously and her bare feet slapping against the gleaming concrete floor as she frantically searched for a way out of the lab.

_Get out! Get out getoutgetoutgetout… _The mantra pounded through her head in time with her fluttering heart beat.

Futuristic looking machinery sparked and started to smoke when she stumbled into it, and from a distance, from inside the glass room, she could hear the man holding the tablet computer groan with frustration.

‘She’s gonna fry all my research if she keeps that up… Jarvis, back up _everything!_ Double back up! Cloud, off-site servers, I don’t care. Back it up!’

‘_Yes, sir_.’ said the disembodied voice Evie had heard earlier.

She turned on her axis, trying to find a way out, _any_ way out, and came face to face -or, face to glowing jewel- with the sceptre responsible for so much of her suffering.

A horrified scream tore from her throat and she turned around, tripping over her own legs in her haste to get away from the monstrous thing and face-planting into the concrete floor, pain exploding along her face and inside her head. Pushing through it, and wiping away the blood trickling from her nose, she scrambled back to her feet… Only to run head first into a solid wall that had sprung up out of nowhere. A wall with arms. Arms which wrapped around her to hold her immobile. A fifth person had appeared in the lab, and they weren’t of a mind to release her any time soon, that was clear.

The wall rumbled something, but she couldn’t hear a thing over the loud ringing in her ears, and her panic didn’t allow her to focus on anything but the restriction of her body.

Another scream escaped her as she kicked against a pair of shins until her feet hurt, and fought against the arms that felt like steel bands around her body. With a herculean effort, she managed to free her hands and clawed at the face of the person restraining her. She fought like a hellcat to get away, screeching at the top of her lungs and kicking and striking and clawing at any part of the body she could find; blind to anything and anyone but the thought of escape as she unleashed her fury and terror onto her captor. She’d rather throw herself into a shredder and make sure she wouldn’t be coming back from death before she’d ever allow herself to be caught and experimented upon again.

From above, sparks rained down; lamps in the ceiling exploding left and right from the power surges her distressed body sent out in successive waves.

Finally, the person she fought got a hold of both her wrists, locking them up in one big, strong hand. The action brought a thickly muscled forearm in close proximity to her face, and she didn’t hesitate to clamp her teeth onto the offending limb and bit down, hard, drawing blood.

Sadly, this elicited nothing more than a pained grunt and a hissed expletive. The hand holding her wrists did not release her, but the person restraining her did turn her around and away from themselves.

‘Language, Captain!’ called out the man with the tablet computer, humour clearly audible in his voice.

‘_Evie_, calm down.’ A deep, male voice suddenly said quietly next to her ear. ‘I won’t hurt you. It’s me… _Steve_… Steve Rogers. You’re safe. You don’t have to fight anymore… You’re safe.’

Her hands were brought down in front of her, and she noticed she was being held gently but firmly, back to chest with the man who spoke to her in such a soothing tone, leaving her no wiggle room that might have allowed her to escape.

Evie felt how the adrenaline, which had kept her fighting, ran its course and slowly dissipated from her body. It left her severely weakened form shaking, and on the brink of collapse. All the fight left her as she went slack in the man’s firm grip. A heart-wrenching sob welled up from her chest when she realised she had no energy left to fight. No energy to escape.

She felt so hungry and thirsty it made everything hurt, the pain excruciating. And she was so... **_so_**_ tired. _

‘Please... _kill _me... _Please._’ she begged with a voice full of despair. ‘_Please. _I can’t go on like this. Pl-’

Her words were cut off when the red-haired woman -_Natasha?_\- put her hands around Evie’s neck and squeezed hard until her oxygen was cut off.

Evie tried to gasp for air that did not come, and before she knew what she was doing she had pulled her hands free from the man’s -_Steve?_\- slackened grip and grabbed onto Natasha’s wrists, digging in her nails, and pulling up her leg to kick the other woman away from her with a hard push against the abdomen.

Or, at least, it would have been a hard push if she hadn’t been so weak. Now it was just a feeble little tap against, and a glance off of the side of the woman’s ribs.

The woman did let go immediately, though, and Evie gulped as much oxygen into her lungs as she could.

‘What the hell are you doing, Nat?!’ exclaimed the man holding Evie, sounding shocked.

_Steve! Is it really Steve?!_ The man’s voice began to sound more familiar to her the more he spoke.

‘She said she wanted to die. I showed her she didn’t; not really. She still has some fight left in her.’ said the woman called Natasha, her tone matter-of-fact. Then she turned her attention to Evie. ‘Dying is easy, and you clearly don’t want that, so, all that remains now is you pick up the pieces, and accept you’ve changed irrevocably from who you were before. You will learn that you can never go back, but that that is not necessarily a bad thing. You will learn that you can live with what you’ve become. And when you’ve recovered I will teach you how to kill _anyone_ and _everyone _who wants to take you away and hurt you again.’

Slowly but surely, Evie’s blurry vision cleared, and what the woman had said pierced through the last vestiges of panic leaving her exhausted brain.

‘Natasha?… Steve?’

_Is it them? _

_This is not a dream? _

She had trouble believing what her eyes and ears were telling her. It seemed almost too good to be true.

‘Is it really you?’ She was half convinced her body still lay on a dirty mattress in a dungeon, her mind dreaming up an unlikely escape, while the tranquillisers those Hydra thugs had pumped into her daily wreaked havoc on her emaciated, weak body. ‘This is _real?_’

_Am I safe? _

‘It’s us, Evie. We found you inside the Hydra fortress this morning, and we took you home.’ Steve said from behind her, his deep voice vibrating through her body from where she was pressed up against his chest. ‘You’re safe.'

Evie, feeling so very tired and sad and relieved and hungry at the same time, immediately burst into tears at hearing the liberating words fall from his lips. Her loud, heartbroken cries filled the lab and she could feel how the man... how _Steve_ turned her around in his arms and held her close to him as she cried against his shoulder.

Sadly enough, even crying took effort, and soon she was too tired to dredge up the energy to keep it up, no matter how much she wanted to continue to bawl her eyes out. Sniffling, Evie let out a shuddering breath and sagged against Steve, closing her eyes and basking in the warmth his body generated. It had been such a long time since she’d felt warm. As her body couldn’t regulate its temperature anymore due to her severe malnourishment, and she’d constantly been locked up in such poor circumstances, no matter to which facility those Hydra scientists had brought her next, it seemed as if she’d been cold for a hundred years.

‘Come on, let’s get you back to bed.’ Steve said gently as he picked her up bridal style and started moving them back towards the glass room.

‘_No!_’ Evie startled from her lethargic mood and started to push away from him, her eyes wild. ‘Not in the lab… No more labs!’ She didn’t think she could handle having to sleep, or to even just be, inside a lab ever again. ‘I… I _can’t_… _Please_…’ A rising panic threatened to choke her and caused her to gasp for breath.

Steve looked at her for a second, his gaze solemn and searching. Then he nodded, turning to the Asian woman who had joined them outside the glass room.

‘Right… Doctor Cho, would it be possible for ms Woods to recover outside the med lab?'

‘I don’t see why not. Her body is perfectly capable of healing itself; you’ll just have to see to it she eats and drinks enough, and gets enough rest to build her strength up. She should be back to her former -physical- self by tomorrow, or the day after at the latest with how fast her body regenerates… Just… make sure she talks to someone about her experiences. Someone qualified.’

‘I will.’ Steve turned his attention back to Evie, who felt dizzy with relief at hearing she didn’t have to stay in the dreaded lab environment. ‘I’ll take you to my place for now, and we’ll arrange for you to have a place of your own when you’re feeling a bit better, alright?’

All Evie could do was nod, leaning her head against his shoulder in exhaustion. Anywhere was fine, as long as it got her out of the lab.

‘I’ll come by tomorrow to conduct a couple of non-invasive tests to get a few readings on the electromagnetic energy she gives off. If that’s okay with you, Small Fry?’ Tablet computer man asked her quietly, clearly trying his hardest to keep her calm so she wouldn’t blow up any more stuff in his lab.

A small hum of assent was all she could muster at that moment, but it seemed to be enough, and then Steve and she were on the move again.

As she closed her eyes and allowed him to take her to _his place_, as he’d called it, wherever that might be, she could hear the voice of the grumbly man call out from the glass room.

‘Hey! What am I, chopped liver? Anyone wanna come up and turn this witchcraft machine back on? I’m starting to feel a bit chilly without my skin!’

He sounded so very insulted about no-one paying any attention to him and his plight, it tickled Evie’s funny bone, and for the first time in ages, a soft, amused snicker welled up inside her chest. Then, the door to the lab slid closed behind her and Steve, and whatever answer he got from the others inside the lab was lost to her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, Comments, Keyboard Slams... All are welcome here ^_^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and until next time!
> 
> XO


End file.
